30th May, Early morning: A morning as any other

Dan eyed the boy and the jacket sceptically. Pye was some strange lad but losing his jacket - torn even - was something he didn't even trust him to manage. What had he gotten himself into this time? The rifle was a different matter though. If he really did lose it he would be in even bigger trouble.

"I'll come along too. Better find 'im sooner rather than later." He bent down to the boy. "We can tell our mate is in trouble, so ya better tell us all ya know, ya little... scarecrow." Dan didn't know what to do with the lad as he was obviously not willing to talk. "If ya help us, ya might not get into deeper trouble" he said, indicating the boy's bloody nose.

The German rifleman had put Davy back down partway, so that his feet were touching the ground again, and had loosened up his grip a bit. So Davy had the opportunity to look up at Hagman when the rifleman bent down to shove his face into Davy's. The boy's chin went up, settling into a scowl, but then right afterward he let go of the expression, and appeared to slump, as if he was giving in to Hagman's half-threats.

A second later he twisted in the German's grip on his shoulders, wrenching himself half-free, enough to get turned around and bring his knee up for the man's groin. Then Davy dashed for freedom as quick as a wink, trying to slip between the riflemen and make for the hills.

What? That little bugger was fast! "Get 'im!" Palmer shouted as he lunged for the boy. He managed to bring him down, just barely grabbing hold of his ankle. "Get back here!"

"Hey!" Cotton shouted, even as the boy wriggled out of Weber's grasp and darted off. He was fast. "Look, we ain't goin' to hurt you - ain't got no reason to. But you'm our best hope of findin' Pye an' we got to find him afore we have to be on parade!"

That filthy beggar. Mayden leaped after the boy, managing to hop awkwardly over the 60th man sprawled headlong in his bid to knock the would-be escapee down.

"That'll do!" Mayden dropped quickly to his knees, taking care to put his right knee firmly into the boy's back. "They ain't gonna hurt you, but I might, you don't stop this nonsense. Just answer the bleedin' question! Which way you come from, after findin' that jacket?"

Weber cursed the boy, but slowly got back to his feet. He was fast. The bugger. A slippery little thing with a sting of a bee. He turned around to study the trees surrounding them. They had a rifle, they had a coat, they had a bloody nose boy and they knew that Hakeswill was somewhere in this mess as well. There had to be another man, who he did not know, but another man had it out for the riflemen or perhaps especially that boy. Where would a frightened, beaten lad go, who was used to the ways of the 33rd and feared the disappointment of his new regiment? Why would he have run? Would he run?

"..Listen, boy." He spoke kneeling beside Davy. "If we don't find Pye by the time they call us to form up, he will be found missing. If he is found missing he will be thought deserted. And if that happens, even when he is found he will be hanged." He made it sound simple, as if there was no other option but the course of events as he described them. "Do you think he could be where you found the coat? ... Or do you think he would have gone to your camp?" Like a wounded animal seeking a place it found familiar. "Because.. we NEED to find him before it is too late. If this is his coat.." Which it appeared to be. "He'll need another one, before we form. Or do you want him to be found without?" He knew it might frighten the boy more, but if Davy cared for his friend so much, this would have a perfect influence on him.

Davy had been knocked down in mid-run, all the wind going out of him in a rush as something hit him heavily in the small of the back. His hands had skidded on the ground in the effort to protect himself from the fall, and now they were bloody and stung like fire. Someone was still on top of him, too, and he tried to roll out from under the weight pressing into him, but he was pinned.

He sagged, seeming to have given up the fight, just letting his cheek rest against the ground. "Ower theor." He pointed with his hand into the distance away from the river. It was a random direction, not one that he meant to actually lead them anywhere, though they probably wouldn't realize that. It was not too far off from the way that Davy had really come. "Ah think."

The sounds of shouting and a scuffle had caught Burke's attention, and he had hastily made his way in the direction of the noise. At first, all he saw was a group of Riflemen, among them Dan and Mayden, and he quickened his pace. If something was happening, he was ready to stand by his mates.

Confusion quickly replaced determination as he saw what they were all crowded around, however - a small boy with a bloodied nose, and Mayden sitting on top of him. Burke frowned. Even if the lad had nicked something from one of them, there was little cause for what he was seeing.

"'Ere, now," Burke said, coming up to the group. "What's all this, then?"

Weber turned around at the voice and was glad to see it was only another fellow rifleman, though from the 95th. An officer asking questions could not have them perfectly answered and then all this effort would be for nothing. He looked at Mayden and spoke in a quieter voice. "You know this lad, he's alright?" Of course most riflemen would be. He was sure this one was as well, but it was better safe, than sorry.

Turning to Burke he nodded a greeting.

Burke acknowledged Weber with a nod of his own, his attention still on Mayden and the boy. He kept his voice amiable as he asked, "What's the lad done t'deserve you sittin' on 'im, Mayden? I'd warrant it's a slightly unfair fight."

Hmph.

"He knows what's happened to one of them Sixtieth lads," Mayden replied. "But he ain't sayin'. Wants to run off instead."

"It is urgent that we find him soon. And t' brat isn't cooperating." Weber saw Mayden tell the story easily to the new arrival, which meant he was ok to be trusted. "He must have run off from a fight too, we did not bust his nose."

That changed things slightly.

"One o' yours is missing?" Burke asked, brow furrowing. "Fine piece o' trouble that is."

He crouched down to look the boy in the face. "'Ere, now, lad. If you're afeared o' gettin' inta trouble, I'm sure th'lads 'ere will leave your name outta it when they find their friend." He smiled reassuringly, and gestured to the boy's bleeding nose and scraped hands. "Looks like you're a right brave 'un, so y'are. How 'bout they lets you up, and we talk, aye?"

Davy had been thinking. If Pye wanted these so-called friends to find him, wouldn't he have run back to them? He'd said to trust Cotton, and Newbury, but there was no Newbury here, and with the way the Germans and Hagman and the rest were acting...He didn't trust them and he wasn't about to hand his friend over. Pye was smart. He knew what was best for him already. These men were just trying to scare him into giving up what he knew.

"Ah telt them areedy," he said wearily, still pulling off the defeated act. He had to bide his time until he could figure out how to throw Mayden off. If only Mayden would listen to this new fellow. Then Davy'd have another chance at getting away.

"Have you?" Burke said amiably. "Then I'm sure y'won' mind tellin' 'em once more, so's they got it. And then we can get you cleaned up."

He looked up at the other riflemen. "Seems fair, aye?"

Weber shrugged and nodded. It was fine by him as long as the boy would not take his precious time to tell them exactly where to look for Pye. If he had the right idea of what time it was, they would soon be called. Very soon.

"We are running out of time, so you better have him be quick about it." He said, in his accented English.

Burke raised his eyebrows at the German man's impatience. Clearly the situation was rather more pressing than he had realized. He would certainly need to get details from Mayden once things were well sorted.

Turning back to the boy, however, he kept the same easy going tone he'd been using. "Well, what say you, lad? That sounds right fine, don't it?"

"Come on," Palmer said impatiently. "He said thata way. Let's bring him along to show us."

"I still think he's leading us on on a wild goose chase." He studied the boy speculatively. If earlier he was not willing to cooperate, why would he now. But if Palmer's impatience was sated any, he was willing enough to follow up on that one lead. There was only one risk. If they did not find Pye, much of their precious time would be lost. They would, in all truth, have to return without him.

The brat was more trouble than he was worth, and he better have a good tale to tell once they found him. To have his uniform in tatters and his rifle soaked through, it was completely reckless and unbecoming of a rifleman. Especially the wet rifle was that! "Lets get moving though. The sooner we've checked it, the sooner we can go see to another option if this one might end up being a...." He thought for a moment then remembered the proper expression: "A dead end."

"Gerrup," Mayden said, rising back to his feet only to bend down quickly to take hold of the boy's collar. "You'll be guidin' us."

"There's one other way of tryin' to figure where he've got to," Cotton pointed out, thinking aloud. "Trackin' him from the river."

But did they have time to do that - or for one of them to head back to try to do that - and was the trail fresh enough close to the river for them to be able to do that? Moreover, if Pye had been running away from someone, was that someone still there?

Weber was about to say that they did not know where he had been by the river, but remembered that his rifle was found there. "....It is a place to start." He agreed. "...And we can home not too many other men came there, while we were gone." That, and that the area where his rifle was found was also the place he had started off from. If the rifle was thrown off by someone else, they were yet again, back where they started.

They were running out of time. Any minute now, he reckoned, and they would be called. Damn the boy for not thinking of heading straight back to camp, no matter what state he was in. As long as he was not really deserting. If he was...

"It's the only chance we've got of findin' him afore we'm called on parade, I think," Cotton said, turning to head back where they'd come from. He really couldn't think that the lad had taken it into his head to desert - he just hadn't seemed the sort who would do that. He'd been so keen and interested and seemed almost to worship the Captain. He'd never let Vickery down, Cotton was certain of it.

"Then... we better get going. The child does not appear willing to talk.. or if that, to tell the truth." He eyed the boy briefly and straightened up. "You've got everything set for parade, have you, Gabe?" This question was given with a fair amount of logic and necessity. If any of those taking part in the search had their things still lying about, their fellows who were not going to take part in the said search, could take care of them. Easy, fast, and at best not getting them in trouble for being in disorder themselves. Well, worse than usual.

"I reckon he'm just nervous of all us folks in green," Cotton replied equably. "Apart from not havin' brekuss or even me mornin' tea - an' I'm goin' to notice that, later. Aye, I'm fine. I'll live - got a bit of bread I can eat on the march, anyhow."

He would far rather have been able to eat without all the worry, and have his tea, but finding Pye was much more important.