"I forgot," cried the boy. "Yes. I know. You're going on duty. But you'll not be long, father?" "Not a minute longer than I can help, my boy. Now go. I want to speak to Dr Martin." "Yes, father," and Phil ran to the opening of the tent door. "You are not hurt?" cried Dr Martin, anxiously. "Not even scratched, Doctor, but the great moment is near, and I was obliged to see my boy once more. I dare not send you both away, for it would only be into the hands of the enemy--perhaps amongst their savage camp followers. You have given up practising for years, but you are a certificated physician and surgeon, and the doctors here will receive you and my boy, glad of your help. While if matters go wrong with the General in a desperate venture, you will be where the wounded are being collected, and the French will respect you." "Yes," said the Doctor. "Then you wish me to join the field hospital-- when?" "As soon as I am gone. You understand?" "Yes. You may trust me." "I know that. Heaven protect you both. Now I can feel at rest. Phil!" The boy dashed back, to spring upon his knee. "Now, quick, my boy," cried the Major, kissing him. "Say good-bye like a soldier's son." "Yes, father; but when--" "Phil!" "I know, father," cried the boy, hastily drawing himself up. "Good-bye. So glad to see you back." "I know, my boy. There, we've kissed as women do; now shake hands like a man." Father and son stood for a few moments hand clasped in hand, and then without trusting himself to look back, the Major walked quickly through the tent door, just as a heavy boom announced that a fresh attack was near. "Gone!" cried Phil, with a piteous cry and outstretched hands, but the next moment he drew himself up stiffly and marched to the Doctor's side. "Bravely done, my boy," cried the old man, patting his shoulder. "Now then, your cap." "We're not going away?" cried Phil, in dismay. "Yes, directly." "But father won't know where to find us again." "Yes, he will, for he says we are to join the doctors with the wounded men." "Then he will know? Yes, I shall like that. They are always so thirsty. May I take them some water to drink?" "Indeed you shall, Phil." Their journey was not long, but it was difficult, for the little army was advancing, and the old Doctor and his pupil were hardly settled in their new canvas and waggon quarters before the attack was in full progress and the bearers were coming in with the wounded, the dying, and, those whom the doctors pronounced already dead. It was a terrible time--hours of horror, during which, heedless of the roar of cannon and the crash of musketry, the busy surgeons toiled on, till the lines of bandaged sufferers lay increasing fast in the one calm, comparatively silent spot at the back of the fortifications that were being attacked.