4
For a moment, everything seemed to stand still. I was beside Mr Gillespie, facing my father and many of my kin, with these militiamen barging in like some blood-red presence, with Ensign Hepburn at their head. He was every bit as young as I remembered him, with that same freckled face, but now his jaw was set, and he had a look of determination that was very interesting.
“What’s going on here?” Strangely, Ensign Hepburn looked at me rather than at Mr Gillespie or my father.
“Nothing to concern the army,” Mr Gillespie answered for me. He rose to his feet, winced, and wiped the blood from his face. “It was just a small altercation.”
“All right, then,” Ensign Hepburn touched the brim of his shako in what may have been a salute. “If you are certain, we’ll be getting along.”
“Oh, do stay
