They had not come away empty-handed, but the food given to them by their French hostess had come to an end, and at a word from the Doctor, as evening fell, Phil sprang to his feet. "Yes," he cried, "they won't see us now. Oh, how I wish I was different, Dr Martin! But I can't help it." "Different?" said the old man, pressing his shoulder. "In what way? Why?" "I keep on getting so hungry and wanting to eat, when I know I ought to be patient and wait." "Poor boy," said the Doctor, with a little laugh. "How strange that you should be perfectly natural, Phil, eh? There, we'll make a brave effort to get right away now, and perhaps we shall find another French friend whose husband is away in the fight." "And then we could sleep in a bed once more," said Phil after a long silence, during which they had been pressing on, with the bushes through which they passed rustling loudly. "Yes, after a splendid supper," replied the Doctor, in French. "Oui!" cried Phil, joyously, and then his heart seemed to stand still, for from just in front, where all looked dark, there was the rattle of muskets and a voice shouted in plain English: "Halt! Who goes there?" CHAPTER SIX. "Stop! For pity's sake," cried the Doctor. "Don't fire!" There was a rush and they were surrounded. Phil was seized roughly by two soldiers, while two more dragged the Doctor to his knees. "I've got a monster, sergeant," cried one of the men. "Hold still, you wriggling little worm." "Let me go," cried Phil, angrily. "Now then, who are you?" cried a harsh voice out of the darkness. "Spies from the French camp, sergeant; that's certain," said another voice. "Silence in the ranks!" roared the sergeant. "Now then, sir, what are you?" "Travellers going south to escape from the war," said the Doctor, huskily. "Won't do," said the sergeant. "Bad attempt at English. Why, you were speaking in French just now." "Yes; I am a French teacher--the tutor to my little pupil here, the son of an English officer." "Bah!" cried the sergeant. "What a lame tale. You talked French or some other lingo, and I heard the boy say `Oui!'" "Yes, sir; we talk in French sometimes so that the boy may learn." "Oh, indeed! Well, you're prisoners now, and he shall be taught to speak English. Bring them along." "Pardon, sir. You belong to the English force?" "I rather think we do, mounseer. Search them, my lads. No, wait till we get them to headquarters. What papers have you?" "Papers, sir?" "Yes, despatches. Letters." "Only my pocket-book," said the Doctor. "Got it, sergeant," said one of the men. "Nothing else?" "No, sergeant; not that I can find." "Perhaps they're hidden upon the boy. Like enough." Phil soon found that it was vain to resist, and he had to suffer being roughly searched. "Eh? What's that?" said the sergeant. "Says he wants to be taken to his father." "Yes, I want to go to my father, to tell him Dr Martin has been taken prisoner by English soldiers."