Chapter Thirty Two.

Chapter Thirty Two.“Better, my lad?”I did not answer, but looked in my father’s face, wondering what was the matter—why I felt so deathly sick, as I lay back feeling water splashed in my face, and seeing a black hand going and coming from somewhere at my side.“Come: try and hold up,” said my father.“Yes,” I said. “What’s the matter?”“Nothing very serious for you, my lad. We have been playing at soldiers in earnest, that’s all, and you have been wounded.”“I, father—I? Ah yes, I remember,” I said, essaying to sit up. “But I did try hard to bear it.”“I know—I know, my lad. I didn’t know you were hurt like that.”“But—but the Indians?” I said, struggling up, and then catching at my father’s hand, for I felt a burning pain run through my leg, and the sick sensation returned.“We have left them behind,” he said, “and are out of their reach for the present. Now sit still, and the faintness will go off. I must go to the other boat.”I looked sharply round, and found that the wooded point was far behind, and also that we were well out of our stream, and floating steadily down the big river toward the settlement, whose flagstaff and houses stood out in the sunshine on our left about a mile away. I saw too that a rope had been made fast to the end of the other boat, and that we were being towed, but by whom, or what was going on there, I could not see for the great bundle in the white sheet which filled up the stern, and was still bristling with arrows.“Hold hard!” shouted my father, and our boat began to glide alongside of the other. “Can you sit up, my lad?”“Yes, father,” I said.“Pomp take car’ of him, massa.”“Yes, but you are wounded too,” said my father.“Oh, dat nuffum,” said the boy contemptuously.My attention was riveted now on Sarah, whom I could see as the boats were alongside lying crouched back in the bottom, looking deathly white as Morgan knelt by her, holding a handkerchief pressed to her shoulder.“Now let me come,” said my father. “Are both your pieces loaded?”“I have that charged, sir,” he said aloud. Then I heard him whisper, “You don’t think she’s very bad, do you, sir?”My father made no reply, but took Morgan’s place.“Go and take an oar,” he said then. “Help Hannibal; and try and get us to the fort if you can. Yes,” he continued, after shading his eyes with his hand, “the flag is still flying; the Indians cannot be there yet.”“Boat coming,” cried Pomp; and to our great delight, we saw a well-manned boat shoot out from the shore, and begin to head in our direction.My father uttered a sigh of relief, and I heard him mutter “Thank God!” as he proceeded to bandage the poor woman’s shoulder as well as he could; and in a momentary glance I saw that an arrow, with the shaft sticking out, broken short off, was still in the wound.I wondered why my father did not draw it out, but of course said nothing, only sat gazing from the coming boat to the shore, which all seemed peaceful and calm now, there being no sign of Indians or trace of the trouble, save on board our boats.Just then, as I was reviving more and more, and fully learning the fact that I had received what might have proved a dangerous wound had not the bleeding been stopped, a hail came from the approaching boat, which proved to be Colonel Preston’s.“Anything the matter? What’s all that firing about?” cried the colonel, as his boat’s way was checked.“Indians!—attacked!” said my father, speaking excitedly as he waved his hand toward his wounded; and then, “Don’t lose a moment. Help us ashore, and there must not be a soul out of the fort in half an hour’s time.”There was a disposition in Colonel Preston’s manner to make light of the matter, but the sight of the arrows bristling about the defences checked him; and ordering a couple of men out of his own boat to help row ours, he stayed with us to hear the narrative of our fight.“They are good marksmen too,” he said; and then, turning to my father, I heard him whisper, “That woman—wound dangerous?”“I am afraid so,” my father replied. “She must have better attention than I can give her.”I turned to gaze on the poor sufferer lying there close beneath the bundle which she had insisted upon bringing—the great pile of soft things which had been a protection to those with her, but had not saved her from the Indians’ arrow; and as I watched her I forgot my own pain and suffering, and thought of how good and kind she had always been to me in spite of her quaint, rather harsh ways; and the great hot tears came into my eyes, to make things look dim and misty again, as I thought of my father’s words.A sharp look-out was kept, and the colonel and his men armed themselves with some of the pieces we had in the boats; but the Indians were in the forest right at the back of the settlement, and had not kept along the bank when we reached the great river.Quite a little crowd was awaiting our coming at the wharf, and as soon as the news spread, the excitement was tremendous; but almost before poor Sarah had been carried up to the great block-house, and I had limped there, resting on Hannibal, a bugle had, rung out, and having been drilled by the General in case of such emergency, men, women, and children, followed by the black slaves, ran scurrying to the entrance-gates, carrying such little household treasures as they could snatch up in the hurry.As the women and children took refuge inside the strong palisades, the able-bodied men formed up ready outside, all well-armed; and looking a thoroughly determined set, as they were marched in, guard set, and ammunition served out.The military training of many of the settlers stood them in good stead, while the General, who the last time I saw him was superintending his slaves in the cotton-field, was hurrying about now giving his orders; and in an amazingly short time scouts were sent out, arrangements were made for barricading the gates, and every musket that could be procured was stood ready to battle with the savage foe.Colonel Preston and my father were, I soon saw, the General’s right-hand men, and each had his particular duty to do, my father’s being the defence of the gates, just outside which I was standing in spite of my wound, Pomp being close at hand, ready, with several other of the black boys, to fetch ammunition, to carry messages, and, with the guarding force outside the gates at the present, being sent to first one and then another of the abandoned houses, to bring out valued articles, such as could be hurriedly saved.I was in a good deal of pain, but everything was so exciting that I could not find it in my heart to go into the great barrack-like wooden fort in the centre of the palisaded enclosure, but stood watching the preparations, and thinking how rapidly the settlement had increased since we came.One thing I heard over and over again, and that was the people bemoaning their fate at having to leave their comfortable houses just as everything had been made homely and nice, to be pillaged and burned by the Indians.“And they’ll pillage and burn our place,” I thought, “perhaps the first.” And I was thinking bitterly of all this, and that we had far more right to complain than the rest, when Pomp came strutting up with his arm in the loose sling, of which he seemed to be very proud.He stopped short as he came quickly up, having been summoned away a few minutes before; and now he pointed at me, and turned to a quiet, keen-looking youngish man, who wore a sword, but had his pockets stuffed full of bandages and bottles, for I heard them chink.“Dat Mass’ George, sah,” he cried.“Ah, that’s right. Your father wished me to examine your wound.”“Are you a doctor?” I said eagerly.“Well, yes—a surgeon.”“Come with me, then,” I cried. “There’s some one who was wounded in one of our boats.”“The woman? Yes, I have seen her and attended to her. Now then, quick, my lad. Lean on me, and let’s see about you.”I limped beside him to the part of the block-house set apart for such troubles, and after giving me no little pain, he said—“There, you can sit somewhere and load guns. You will not hurt now.”“It’s not dangerous then?” I said.“Not at all; but if it had not been sharply attended to by your father you would have bled to death.”“And how is our Sarah?” I said, eagerly.“If you mean Captain Bruton’s housekeeper, she is badly wounded, but I have removed the arrow-head, and I think she will do. I suppose you are Master George?”“Yes.”“Then as soon as you can you must go and see the poor woman. She was talking constantly of you, and begged me to send you if we met.”I thanked him, and left him emptying his pockets of strips of linen, threads, a box of something that made me think about pistols in the case at home, and then of some bottles, all of which he laid about in the most orderly manner, and I left him with a shudder, as I thought of what they were for.As soon as I got outside I was accosted by Pomp, who came up to me, saying—“Leg quite well now?”“No; nor likely to be, Pomp.”“Mass’ George better wear um in fling like Pomp arm. Missie Sarah want Mass’ George.”He took me to where the poor woman lay, very white and exhausted, but she brightened up as soon as she saw me approach, and the black nurse who was attending to her drew back.“Ah, Sarah,” I exclaimed, as I went to her side, “I am sorry to see you like this.”She paid no heed to my words of condolence, but caught me by the wrist.“Where is that box?” she said eagerly.“The box? The one Hannibal carried down?”“Yes; where is it?”“I don’t know,” I said.“What? You don’t know? Oh, Master George!”“It was brought up from the boat, and put in the enclosure somewhere.”“Thank goodness,” she said with a sigh.“And the bundle?” she suddenly exclaimed.“Ought you to worry about such things now?” I asked. “What does it matter?”“Matter?” she gasped.“Yes. Do you know your waiting to get those things made us nearly caught by the Indians?”“If it did, they saved you all from being shot by them as I was with that dreadful arrow.”“Well—yes, they did keep off the arrows; but if you had been quicker we should not have been shot at. You shouldn’t have stopped to worry about your clothes. My father would have paid for more.”“And me so weak and ill, Master George, and you to reproach me like that,” she said, with the tears brimming over on to her cheeks.“Nonsense!” I said, taking her hand, to feel her cling to mine affectionately. “I was not reproaching you, and we are all safe, and nothing to mind.”“Nothing to mind? Ah, my dear, think of what our poor house will be like when we get back.”“I don’t think I will,” I said dryly; but she did not heed, and went on—“It was bad enough after that dreadful flood. What will it be now? And so much pride as I took in it, and such a home as it had become. And then, my dear, for you to go and think that I should keep those two waiting while I got together things of my own.”“Well, you know you did,” I said, laughing.“For shame, Master George! That box has got everything in that I knew you would like to save.”“Oh, Sarah!”“And in that bundle is all the best of the linen, and right in the middle, your poor dear father’s uniform.”I did not know which to do—to laugh at the poor woman for her kindly but mistaken thoughts, or to feel affected, so I did neither, but pressed her hand gently, told her she must sleep, and rose to go; but she clung to my hand.“You’ll take care, and not go into danger,” she said. “You have been hurt enough.”“I’ll try not,” I said, as she still clung to my hand, looking wistfully at me. I seemed to understand what she meant, stooped over and kissed her, and made her cry.“Poor old nurse!” I said to myself as I limped out, and across the enclosure, where the people were gathered in knots discussing the possibility of an attack. In one part all the blacks were together—the women and the younger boys; in another part the ladies with their children; while on the rough platforms erected at the corners of the great palisade sentries were stationed, keeping a vigilant look-out; and I now saw that to every white man there were two armed blacks, and I could not help thinking that we should all be massacred if the blacks sided with the savages against those who had made them their slaves.At one of these corners I saw that our Hannibal was placed, his great bulk and height making him stand out prominently from his companions; and feebly enough, and with no little pain, I went towards him, thinking very little of my injury in my boyish excitement, though had I been older, and more given to thought, I suppose I should have lain up at once in the temporary hospital.I signed to Hannibal to come to me, and the gentleman mounting guard with him giving permission, I took him aside.“Well, Han,” I said, as he smiled at me in his quiet, grave way, “you’ve got a gun, and are going to fight then?”“Yes, Mass’ George, going to fight.”“And will the other people fight too?”“Yes; all going to fight,” he said. “Capen say must fight for us, Hannibal, and Hannibal going to fight for capen and Mass’ George.”“But—” I checked myself, for it seemed to come to me like a flash that it would be foolish to ask the question I intended about the blacks being faithful. “It would be like putting it into their heads to be false,” I said to myself; and then, as the great fellow looked at me inquiringly, I continued aloud—“Try and protect my father if you can, Han.”He gave me a quick look, and the tears stood in his eyes.“Han die for capen and Mass’ George,” he said.At that moment there was a bustle and excitement at the gate, and I tried as quickly as my injury would allow to join the group who were hurrying that way.

“Better, my lad?”

I did not answer, but looked in my father’s face, wondering what was the matter—why I felt so deathly sick, as I lay back feeling water splashed in my face, and seeing a black hand going and coming from somewhere at my side.

“Come: try and hold up,” said my father.

“Yes,” I said. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing very serious for you, my lad. We have been playing at soldiers in earnest, that’s all, and you have been wounded.”

“I, father—I? Ah yes, I remember,” I said, essaying to sit up. “But I did try hard to bear it.”

“I know—I know, my lad. I didn’t know you were hurt like that.”

“But—but the Indians?” I said, struggling up, and then catching at my father’s hand, for I felt a burning pain run through my leg, and the sick sensation returned.

“We have left them behind,” he said, “and are out of their reach for the present. Now sit still, and the faintness will go off. I must go to the other boat.”

I looked sharply round, and found that the wooded point was far behind, and also that we were well out of our stream, and floating steadily down the big river toward the settlement, whose flagstaff and houses stood out in the sunshine on our left about a mile away. I saw too that a rope had been made fast to the end of the other boat, and that we were being towed, but by whom, or what was going on there, I could not see for the great bundle in the white sheet which filled up the stern, and was still bristling with arrows.

“Hold hard!” shouted my father, and our boat began to glide alongside of the other. “Can you sit up, my lad?”

“Yes, father,” I said.

“Pomp take car’ of him, massa.”

“Yes, but you are wounded too,” said my father.

“Oh, dat nuffum,” said the boy contemptuously.

My attention was riveted now on Sarah, whom I could see as the boats were alongside lying crouched back in the bottom, looking deathly white as Morgan knelt by her, holding a handkerchief pressed to her shoulder.

“Now let me come,” said my father. “Are both your pieces loaded?”

“I have that charged, sir,” he said aloud. Then I heard him whisper, “You don’t think she’s very bad, do you, sir?”

My father made no reply, but took Morgan’s place.

“Go and take an oar,” he said then. “Help Hannibal; and try and get us to the fort if you can. Yes,” he continued, after shading his eyes with his hand, “the flag is still flying; the Indians cannot be there yet.”

“Boat coming,” cried Pomp; and to our great delight, we saw a well-manned boat shoot out from the shore, and begin to head in our direction.

My father uttered a sigh of relief, and I heard him mutter “Thank God!” as he proceeded to bandage the poor woman’s shoulder as well as he could; and in a momentary glance I saw that an arrow, with the shaft sticking out, broken short off, was still in the wound.

I wondered why my father did not draw it out, but of course said nothing, only sat gazing from the coming boat to the shore, which all seemed peaceful and calm now, there being no sign of Indians or trace of the trouble, save on board our boats.

Just then, as I was reviving more and more, and fully learning the fact that I had received what might have proved a dangerous wound had not the bleeding been stopped, a hail came from the approaching boat, which proved to be Colonel Preston’s.

“Anything the matter? What’s all that firing about?” cried the colonel, as his boat’s way was checked.

“Indians!—attacked!” said my father, speaking excitedly as he waved his hand toward his wounded; and then, “Don’t lose a moment. Help us ashore, and there must not be a soul out of the fort in half an hour’s time.”

There was a disposition in Colonel Preston’s manner to make light of the matter, but the sight of the arrows bristling about the defences checked him; and ordering a couple of men out of his own boat to help row ours, he stayed with us to hear the narrative of our fight.

“They are good marksmen too,” he said; and then, turning to my father, I heard him whisper, “That woman—wound dangerous?”

“I am afraid so,” my father replied. “She must have better attention than I can give her.”

I turned to gaze on the poor sufferer lying there close beneath the bundle which she had insisted upon bringing—the great pile of soft things which had been a protection to those with her, but had not saved her from the Indians’ arrow; and as I watched her I forgot my own pain and suffering, and thought of how good and kind she had always been to me in spite of her quaint, rather harsh ways; and the great hot tears came into my eyes, to make things look dim and misty again, as I thought of my father’s words.

A sharp look-out was kept, and the colonel and his men armed themselves with some of the pieces we had in the boats; but the Indians were in the forest right at the back of the settlement, and had not kept along the bank when we reached the great river.

Quite a little crowd was awaiting our coming at the wharf, and as soon as the news spread, the excitement was tremendous; but almost before poor Sarah had been carried up to the great block-house, and I had limped there, resting on Hannibal, a bugle had, rung out, and having been drilled by the General in case of such emergency, men, women, and children, followed by the black slaves, ran scurrying to the entrance-gates, carrying such little household treasures as they could snatch up in the hurry.

As the women and children took refuge inside the strong palisades, the able-bodied men formed up ready outside, all well-armed; and looking a thoroughly determined set, as they were marched in, guard set, and ammunition served out.

The military training of many of the settlers stood them in good stead, while the General, who the last time I saw him was superintending his slaves in the cotton-field, was hurrying about now giving his orders; and in an amazingly short time scouts were sent out, arrangements were made for barricading the gates, and every musket that could be procured was stood ready to battle with the savage foe.

Colonel Preston and my father were, I soon saw, the General’s right-hand men, and each had his particular duty to do, my father’s being the defence of the gates, just outside which I was standing in spite of my wound, Pomp being close at hand, ready, with several other of the black boys, to fetch ammunition, to carry messages, and, with the guarding force outside the gates at the present, being sent to first one and then another of the abandoned houses, to bring out valued articles, such as could be hurriedly saved.

I was in a good deal of pain, but everything was so exciting that I could not find it in my heart to go into the great barrack-like wooden fort in the centre of the palisaded enclosure, but stood watching the preparations, and thinking how rapidly the settlement had increased since we came.

One thing I heard over and over again, and that was the people bemoaning their fate at having to leave their comfortable houses just as everything had been made homely and nice, to be pillaged and burned by the Indians.

“And they’ll pillage and burn our place,” I thought, “perhaps the first.” And I was thinking bitterly of all this, and that we had far more right to complain than the rest, when Pomp came strutting up with his arm in the loose sling, of which he seemed to be very proud.

He stopped short as he came quickly up, having been summoned away a few minutes before; and now he pointed at me, and turned to a quiet, keen-looking youngish man, who wore a sword, but had his pockets stuffed full of bandages and bottles, for I heard them chink.

“Dat Mass’ George, sah,” he cried.

“Ah, that’s right. Your father wished me to examine your wound.”

“Are you a doctor?” I said eagerly.

“Well, yes—a surgeon.”

“Come with me, then,” I cried. “There’s some one who was wounded in one of our boats.”

“The woman? Yes, I have seen her and attended to her. Now then, quick, my lad. Lean on me, and let’s see about you.”

I limped beside him to the part of the block-house set apart for such troubles, and after giving me no little pain, he said—

“There, you can sit somewhere and load guns. You will not hurt now.”

“It’s not dangerous then?” I said.

“Not at all; but if it had not been sharply attended to by your father you would have bled to death.”

“And how is our Sarah?” I said, eagerly.

“If you mean Captain Bruton’s housekeeper, she is badly wounded, but I have removed the arrow-head, and I think she will do. I suppose you are Master George?”

“Yes.”

“Then as soon as you can you must go and see the poor woman. She was talking constantly of you, and begged me to send you if we met.”

I thanked him, and left him emptying his pockets of strips of linen, threads, a box of something that made me think about pistols in the case at home, and then of some bottles, all of which he laid about in the most orderly manner, and I left him with a shudder, as I thought of what they were for.

As soon as I got outside I was accosted by Pomp, who came up to me, saying—

“Leg quite well now?”

“No; nor likely to be, Pomp.”

“Mass’ George better wear um in fling like Pomp arm. Missie Sarah want Mass’ George.”

He took me to where the poor woman lay, very white and exhausted, but she brightened up as soon as she saw me approach, and the black nurse who was attending to her drew back.

“Ah, Sarah,” I exclaimed, as I went to her side, “I am sorry to see you like this.”

She paid no heed to my words of condolence, but caught me by the wrist.

“Where is that box?” she said eagerly.

“The box? The one Hannibal carried down?”

“Yes; where is it?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“What? You don’t know? Oh, Master George!”

“It was brought up from the boat, and put in the enclosure somewhere.”

“Thank goodness,” she said with a sigh.

“And the bundle?” she suddenly exclaimed.

“Ought you to worry about such things now?” I asked. “What does it matter?”

“Matter?” she gasped.

“Yes. Do you know your waiting to get those things made us nearly caught by the Indians?”

“If it did, they saved you all from being shot by them as I was with that dreadful arrow.”

“Well—yes, they did keep off the arrows; but if you had been quicker we should not have been shot at. You shouldn’t have stopped to worry about your clothes. My father would have paid for more.”

“And me so weak and ill, Master George, and you to reproach me like that,” she said, with the tears brimming over on to her cheeks.

“Nonsense!” I said, taking her hand, to feel her cling to mine affectionately. “I was not reproaching you, and we are all safe, and nothing to mind.”

“Nothing to mind? Ah, my dear, think of what our poor house will be like when we get back.”

“I don’t think I will,” I said dryly; but she did not heed, and went on—

“It was bad enough after that dreadful flood. What will it be now? And so much pride as I took in it, and such a home as it had become. And then, my dear, for you to go and think that I should keep those two waiting while I got together things of my own.”

“Well, you know you did,” I said, laughing.

“For shame, Master George! That box has got everything in that I knew you would like to save.”

“Oh, Sarah!”

“And in that bundle is all the best of the linen, and right in the middle, your poor dear father’s uniform.”

I did not know which to do—to laugh at the poor woman for her kindly but mistaken thoughts, or to feel affected, so I did neither, but pressed her hand gently, told her she must sleep, and rose to go; but she clung to my hand.

“You’ll take care, and not go into danger,” she said. “You have been hurt enough.”

“I’ll try not,” I said, as she still clung to my hand, looking wistfully at me. I seemed to understand what she meant, stooped over and kissed her, and made her cry.

“Poor old nurse!” I said to myself as I limped out, and across the enclosure, where the people were gathered in knots discussing the possibility of an attack. In one part all the blacks were together—the women and the younger boys; in another part the ladies with their children; while on the rough platforms erected at the corners of the great palisade sentries were stationed, keeping a vigilant look-out; and I now saw that to every white man there were two armed blacks, and I could not help thinking that we should all be massacred if the blacks sided with the savages against those who had made them their slaves.

At one of these corners I saw that our Hannibal was placed, his great bulk and height making him stand out prominently from his companions; and feebly enough, and with no little pain, I went towards him, thinking very little of my injury in my boyish excitement, though had I been older, and more given to thought, I suppose I should have lain up at once in the temporary hospital.

I signed to Hannibal to come to me, and the gentleman mounting guard with him giving permission, I took him aside.

“Well, Han,” I said, as he smiled at me in his quiet, grave way, “you’ve got a gun, and are going to fight then?”

“Yes, Mass’ George, going to fight.”

“And will the other people fight too?”

“Yes; all going to fight,” he said. “Capen say must fight for us, Hannibal, and Hannibal going to fight for capen and Mass’ George.”

“But—” I checked myself, for it seemed to come to me like a flash that it would be foolish to ask the question I intended about the blacks being faithful. “It would be like putting it into their heads to be false,” I said to myself; and then, as the great fellow looked at me inquiringly, I continued aloud—

“Try and protect my father if you can, Han.”

He gave me a quick look, and the tears stood in his eyes.

“Han die for capen and Mass’ George,” he said.

At that moment there was a bustle and excitement at the gate, and I tried as quickly as my injury would allow to join the group who were hurrying that way.

Chapter Thirty Three.It was the scouts coming back from different directions, with the same report that no enemy was in sight, though they had penetrated in one or two instances right to the forest.“Isn’t a false alarm, is it, Captain Bruton?” said one of the newer settlers. “Two of us went right to your little plantation.”“Well?” said my father, eagerly.“Well, sir, you were not at home, so we did what I hope you approve of—treated ourselves as you in your hospitality would have treated us. We sat down, ate and drank, and after we were refreshed we came back, but we saw no enemy.”I felt hot and cold with indignation as I listened to this man’s cavalier treatment of my father, and to see that many of those present were ready to join this scout in believing it to be a false alarm.“I am glad, sir, that you have returned in safety to make your report,” said my father, coldly.“Oh, come, Winters,” said Colonel Preston, warmly, “if you had seen those boats bristling with arrows you would not think our friend Bruton had been crying wolf.”“And if he will go into our temporary hospital he will see one of the wounded lying there seriously injured.”“But I do not want to cast doubts on Captain Bruton’s report.”“Then why did you try, sir?” I said hotly. “Ask the doctor if it was a sham wound from an arrow that I got in my leg.”“George!” said my father, sternly, “remember what you are.”“I do, father,” I said vehemently; “but this man seemed to think you had not spoken the truth.”“No, no,” said the settler, flushing up, “only that he might have been deceived.”“I only wish you had been tied up for hours to a tree as I was, sir,” I said, “expecting to be killed by the Indians. I believe even now you can’t believe it is true.”“Hush!” said my father, sternly. “I’m afraid, gentlemen, that though nothing has been seen of them, the Indians are hiding in the forest, ready to descend upon us at what they consider a favourable opportunity, and I beg, I implore, for your own sakes—for the sake of all whom you hold dear, not to treat what I have said as being exaggerated.”“We shall not, Bruton,” said the General firmly, after standing listening in silence all through. “I have plenty of faith in my young friend, your son, and you may rest assured that I am not going to treat what has taken place as a false alarm. Gentlemen, to your posts. Colonel Preston, the gate must be closed at once, and every other man will remain under arms till ten to-night, when the second half will relieve them. Gentlemen, I consider that the siege has begun.”The evening came in dark and gloomy, and night fell as if almost at once. All was still but the faintly-heard lapping of the water on the strand, and the customary croaking and hollow bellowing from the forest; and it seemed to me, feverish and ill at ease now, that a feeling of awe had come upon the occupants of the enclosure, who were seated about in groups of families, discussing their strange positions in whispers, and waiting at the first alarm to obey the General’s command, and take shelter in the great block of wooden buildings constituting the fort—a building which had been gradually enlarged as the settlement had increased, so that, in addition to shelter and protection, there might be ample room for magazines, armoury, and stores.I was seated with Pomp and my father, where we had partaken of the food that had been served out, thinking of my bed at home, and of how dearly I would have liked to be lying there instead of upon the hard ground, when an alarm was given, and the officers, my father amongst them, hurried up to the fort to ascend to the roof, and watch the glow which had suddenly begun to appear in the southwest.I had followed my father and stood by him, as I heard the General say sharply, in answer to a remark made by some one of those present, upon whose faces the faint glow was reflected—“Forest fire, sir? No; I am afraid it is—”“My house, gentlemen,” said my father, calmly. “The attack has begun.”A dead silence followed my father’s words, and it was almost a minute before the General said gravely—“Yes, Bruton, the attack has begun, and in a way I dreaded. Well, we must beat it off. I am sorry that your pleasant home should be one of the first to fall a victim to the enemy; but as it was built up, so it can be built up again. There will be plenty of willing hands to help one of our most trusty brothers.”A murmur of warm assent followed this remark, and then the General spoke again.“Is Mr Winters here?” he said.“Yes, General.”“What have you to say, sir, now?”“That I beg Captain Bruton’s pardon, sir; and that I will be one of the first to help restore his house, if it please God I live through the trouble that is to come.”“Thank you, Mr Winters,” said my father, quietly. “If we are staunch to each other I have no fear for the result.”“Look—look!” came in a low murmur, and my heart sank, for it seemed so piteous to see the bright glare rising over the forest, as the poor house over which so much pains had been taken seemed, in spite of the distance, to be sending up wreath after wreath of golden smoke, while for a short time there was a ruddy light spreading high up into the sky.But it all faded out as rapidly as it had arisen, and I went down into the enclosure, to stumble soon after upon Morgan, who said grimly—“Didn’t think after that soaking, look you, she would have burnt out so quick, Master George.”“Oh, don’t talk about it, Morgan,” I said. “There, I must lie down now; I am too weak and tired to stand.”“Come this way then, my lad, and lean on me,” he said gently; and he helped me to where I could see something white lying on the ground.It was the great bundle Sarah had made, and close by it lay Pomp fast asleep.“Burned so quickly after the soaking it had had,” seemed to be buzzing in my brain, and the ruddy glow flashed up before my eyes once more; but only in imagination, for I believe that as my head touched that great soft bundle, regardless of danger from tomahawk or arrow, I went off fast asleep, and slept on hour after hour, nor opened my eyes again till it was broad day.

It was the scouts coming back from different directions, with the same report that no enemy was in sight, though they had penetrated in one or two instances right to the forest.

“Isn’t a false alarm, is it, Captain Bruton?” said one of the newer settlers. “Two of us went right to your little plantation.”

“Well?” said my father, eagerly.

“Well, sir, you were not at home, so we did what I hope you approve of—treated ourselves as you in your hospitality would have treated us. We sat down, ate and drank, and after we were refreshed we came back, but we saw no enemy.”

I felt hot and cold with indignation as I listened to this man’s cavalier treatment of my father, and to see that many of those present were ready to join this scout in believing it to be a false alarm.

“I am glad, sir, that you have returned in safety to make your report,” said my father, coldly.

“Oh, come, Winters,” said Colonel Preston, warmly, “if you had seen those boats bristling with arrows you would not think our friend Bruton had been crying wolf.”

“And if he will go into our temporary hospital he will see one of the wounded lying there seriously injured.”

“But I do not want to cast doubts on Captain Bruton’s report.”

“Then why did you try, sir?” I said hotly. “Ask the doctor if it was a sham wound from an arrow that I got in my leg.”

“George!” said my father, sternly, “remember what you are.”

“I do, father,” I said vehemently; “but this man seemed to think you had not spoken the truth.”

“No, no,” said the settler, flushing up, “only that he might have been deceived.”

“I only wish you had been tied up for hours to a tree as I was, sir,” I said, “expecting to be killed by the Indians. I believe even now you can’t believe it is true.”

“Hush!” said my father, sternly. “I’m afraid, gentlemen, that though nothing has been seen of them, the Indians are hiding in the forest, ready to descend upon us at what they consider a favourable opportunity, and I beg, I implore, for your own sakes—for the sake of all whom you hold dear, not to treat what I have said as being exaggerated.”

“We shall not, Bruton,” said the General firmly, after standing listening in silence all through. “I have plenty of faith in my young friend, your son, and you may rest assured that I am not going to treat what has taken place as a false alarm. Gentlemen, to your posts. Colonel Preston, the gate must be closed at once, and every other man will remain under arms till ten to-night, when the second half will relieve them. Gentlemen, I consider that the siege has begun.”

The evening came in dark and gloomy, and night fell as if almost at once. All was still but the faintly-heard lapping of the water on the strand, and the customary croaking and hollow bellowing from the forest; and it seemed to me, feverish and ill at ease now, that a feeling of awe had come upon the occupants of the enclosure, who were seated about in groups of families, discussing their strange positions in whispers, and waiting at the first alarm to obey the General’s command, and take shelter in the great block of wooden buildings constituting the fort—a building which had been gradually enlarged as the settlement had increased, so that, in addition to shelter and protection, there might be ample room for magazines, armoury, and stores.

I was seated with Pomp and my father, where we had partaken of the food that had been served out, thinking of my bed at home, and of how dearly I would have liked to be lying there instead of upon the hard ground, when an alarm was given, and the officers, my father amongst them, hurried up to the fort to ascend to the roof, and watch the glow which had suddenly begun to appear in the southwest.

I had followed my father and stood by him, as I heard the General say sharply, in answer to a remark made by some one of those present, upon whose faces the faint glow was reflected—

“Forest fire, sir? No; I am afraid it is—”

“My house, gentlemen,” said my father, calmly. “The attack has begun.”

A dead silence followed my father’s words, and it was almost a minute before the General said gravely—

“Yes, Bruton, the attack has begun, and in a way I dreaded. Well, we must beat it off. I am sorry that your pleasant home should be one of the first to fall a victim to the enemy; but as it was built up, so it can be built up again. There will be plenty of willing hands to help one of our most trusty brothers.”

A murmur of warm assent followed this remark, and then the General spoke again.

“Is Mr Winters here?” he said.

“Yes, General.”

“What have you to say, sir, now?”

“That I beg Captain Bruton’s pardon, sir; and that I will be one of the first to help restore his house, if it please God I live through the trouble that is to come.”

“Thank you, Mr Winters,” said my father, quietly. “If we are staunch to each other I have no fear for the result.”

“Look—look!” came in a low murmur, and my heart sank, for it seemed so piteous to see the bright glare rising over the forest, as the poor house over which so much pains had been taken seemed, in spite of the distance, to be sending up wreath after wreath of golden smoke, while for a short time there was a ruddy light spreading high up into the sky.

But it all faded out as rapidly as it had arisen, and I went down into the enclosure, to stumble soon after upon Morgan, who said grimly—

“Didn’t think after that soaking, look you, she would have burnt out so quick, Master George.”

“Oh, don’t talk about it, Morgan,” I said. “There, I must lie down now; I am too weak and tired to stand.”

“Come this way then, my lad, and lean on me,” he said gently; and he helped me to where I could see something white lying on the ground.

It was the great bundle Sarah had made, and close by it lay Pomp fast asleep.

“Burned so quickly after the soaking it had had,” seemed to be buzzing in my brain, and the ruddy glow flashed up before my eyes once more; but only in imagination, for I believe that as my head touched that great soft bundle, regardless of danger from tomahawk or arrow, I went off fast asleep, and slept on hour after hour, nor opened my eyes again till it was broad day.

Chapter Thirty Four.It was a miserable scene upon which I gazed, in spite of its being a bright clear morning; but as I grasped where I was, and shook off the drowsy confusion, there was a feeling of thankfulness in my heart, for the dark night had passed away, and we had not been attacked by the Indians.But the moment I had felt more cheerful, down came a depressing cloud, as I remembered our row for life, our narrow escape, and the reflection of the fire I had seen.“Poor old house!” I sighed to myself, for it was so terrible that the beautiful little home should have been utterly destroyed; and it all seemed to come up before me with its high-pitched gable ends, the rough pine porch, the lead-paned windows that came over from England; and as I saw it all in imagination once more, I fancied how the passion-flowers and other creepers must have looked crisping and curling up as the flames reached them; and what with my miserable thoughts, the stiffness I felt from my previous day’s exertions, and the pain from my little wound, if ever I had felt horribly depressed, I did then.“Mass’ George hungly?” said a familiar voice; and there was Pomp’s contented face before me, as he came up hugging to him some slices of bread.“No,” I said, ill-humouredly, “I can’t eat; my leg hurts me so.”“Pomp can,” he said; “and him hand hurt too. Missie Morgan want to see Mass’ George.”I took one of the pieces of bread Pomp gave me, and began to eat mechanically as I walked across the enclosure by the various little groups of settlers and their families, to where my father was busy with the other officers superintending the construction of a barricade outside the gate, so as to divide the Indians in case of an attack, and force them to come up to the entrance one by one.“Ah, my boy,” said my father, quickly, “how is the leg?”“Hurts,” I said, in an ill-used tone.“Naturally,” he cried with a laugh. “There, don’t be down-hearted about a little pain. I came and had a look at you, but you were asleep. There, do you see how we are getting ready for your Indian friends? We hope to give them such a severe lesson that they will leave us alone in future.”“Then you think they will attack us, father?” I said. “Some one just now told me that all was quiet, and that the Indians had gone.”“That is the very reason why I think they will attack us, my boy, and the sooner the better, George. It must come, and I should like them to get their sharp lesson and go; for I want to hang this up for an ornament or to turn it into a pruning-hook.”He touched his sword as he spoke, and turned to Morgan, who came up.“How is she?”“Doctor says she’s very feverish, sir, but he thinks she is going on all right.”“I am very, very sorry, Morgan,” said my father, sadly. “I feel as if I were to blame for bringing you people out to this wilderness.”“I teclare to cootness, sir,” began Morgan, in a high-pitched Welsh fashion; but he checked himself and smiled. “There, sir, don’t you talk like that. Wilderness? Why, it’s a pleasure to do a bit of gardening here. See what rich deep soil it is, and how the things rush up into growth.”“Very poor consolation for your wife, Morgan,” said my father, dryly. “All that does not make her wound the more bearable.”“Bah! Nonsense, sir! She don’t mind. Why, as she said to me just now, she wouldn’t have got a wound from an Indian’s arrow if she had stopped at home, but the knife might have slipped, and she might have cut herself, or upset a pot of boiling water over her, or failed down the cellar steps and broken a dish and run a piece into her side.”“Well, that’s good philosophy, Morgan, and very comforting to me. What do you say, George, are you sorry you came?”“No, father, not at all,” I replied, for unwittingly I had finished the big slice of bread, and felt all the better for the food. “I only wish I were a man, and could fight.”“Don’t wish that, my lad,” he said quickly. “There is nothing more glorious in life than being a boy. But there, I have no time to waste in preaching to you about that,” he said, laughing. “It would be labour thrown away. No boy can believe it. He has to grow into a man, and look back: then he does. There, don’t worry yourself till your leg is better, but do any little thing to be useful, and if an attack is made, keep with Morgan. You can load.”“Yes, I can load,” I said to myself, as I limped off with Pomp following me, looking very proud of his hand being in a sling, and we went into the part of the block-house where poor Sarah was lying.As I crossed the enclosure I seemed to understand now why it had been contrived as it was to form an outer defence, which, if taken, only meant that the enemy had a more formidable place to attack, for the block-house seemed to my inexperienced eyes to be impregnable.As I quietly entered the place, I encountered the doctor.“Ha!” he said; “come to see me?”I explained that I had come to see our housekeeper.“Asleep,” he said. “Don’t disturb her. Let’s have a look at your wound.”He drew me into his rough room, and gave me no little pain as he rebandaged my leg, Pomp standing by and looking on.“Oh, that’s all right, my lad,” said the doctor. “Smarts, of course, but you’ll soon mend up. Very different if it had gone into your chest. Now, Ebony, let’s look at your hand.”“Pomp, sah,” said the boy with dignity, “not Eb’ny.”“Oh, well then, Pomp. Now then. How’s the hand?”“On’y got lil hole in um, sah. Hurt lil bit. Oh! Hurt big bit, you do dat.”“Yes, I suppose so,” said the doctor, examining and rebandaging the wound. “There, that will soon be well if you do not use it. Well, young Bruton, so they burnt you out, did they, last night?”“Yes,” I said, bitterly.“Oh, never mind. You heard what was said. Well, let’s go and see what they are doing. We’re non-combatants, eh?”We walked out into the open square, after the young doctor had admonished the black woman who had been appointed the first nurse to be watchful and attentive to her patient.There was something going on down by the gate, and I forgot all about the pain in my leg as I accompanied the doctor there, continuing my breakfast on the second slice of bread Pomp handed to me.We soon learned what caused the bustle. A strong party of well-armed scouts was out in the direction of the forest, which lay some distance back from the block-house now, as clearing after clearing had been made, and turned into plantations; and these scouts, with a second line in support, were ready to give the alarm and arrest the first attack, their orders being to fall back slowly to the gate, so that ample time would be given at the alarm of the first shot for the busy party now being sent out to retreat and get under cover. For now that every one was safe, it had been decided to try and bring in, as far as was practicable, the most valuable things from the nearest houses.I was not long in mounting to a good place inside the great palisade, where I could command a view of what was going on, and soon saw that a couple of lines of men had been made with military precision, extending from the gate to the General’s house, which had been voted the first to be cleared; and between these lines, under the command of Colonel Preston, a strong body of the slaves—men only at first, but as the work went on women too—were soon going and coming, bearing the most valuable of the household chattels, and these were so stacked in the centre of the enclosure that they would be safe so long as the palisade kept the enemy at bay, and would afterwards act as a line of defence.In little over half an hour another house was treated in the same way, and all through that day the work went on, till a goodly stack of the best of the things had been brought in, along with stores of provisions, that in the first hurry had been left behind. As this went on the people who had been sick at heart and despondent began to look more hopeful, and family after family had their goods arranged so that they were able to make comfortable bivouacs out in the middle of the square; but these were all arranged under the orders of the General and his officers, so as to form places of defence, to which the defenders of the palisade could flee and be under cover, the whole of the new barricade being arranged so that a way was left leading up to the main entrance of the block-house.I grasped all this from my position of looker-on, Pomp never leaving my side, and asking questions which I tried to answer, so that he could understand.And he did comprehend too, much better than I should have expected, for toward evening, after the day had passed, with the scouts relieved twice over without having seen the slightest token of Indians being near, all at once he said to me—“When Injum come an’ shoot an’ get over de big fence, all dat make great big fire.”My father’s words about the great enemy we had to fear came back to me at this, and it was with a curiously uncomfortable feeling that I left my look-out place for the second time to go and partake of the food that had been prepared.For the garrison of the fort were rapidly settling down to make the best of their position, and all was being done as to the serving out of food with military precision, the General having drilled his followers in the past, so that they might be prepared for such an emergency as this; and it was quite wonderful how soon the confusion and disorder of the first hours had changed to regular ways.And now the night would soon be here—a time looked forward to with the greatest of anxiety by all.The scouts were called in by sound of bugle, and at sundown the gates were barricaded, and sentries placed all round our defences. Fires were put out, and as darkness fell, and the customary chorus of the reptiles arose from the forest and distant swamps, a curious feeling of awe came over me where I sat watching by my father, who, after a long and arduous day’s work was sleeping heavily, Morgan close at hand, with Pomp and Hannibal too.I could not sleep, for there was a dull, gnawing pain in my wound; and so I sat in discomfort and misery, thinking that though the sentries were all on the watch, the place would not be so safe now that my father was asleep.The moon was hidden, but the stars shone down brightly, and I sat back, leaning against Sarah’s big bundle, in which some of the arrows were still sticking, gazing up at the spangled heavens, listening to the bull-frogs, and thinking how far off they sounded as compared to when I had heard them at home.I was listening and wondering whether the Indians would come, when I heard a rustling sound close by, and directly after a low muttering. But I did not pay any heed, thinking that Morgan or one of the blacks had turned in his sleep; but the noise came again and again, and then there was a loud ejaculation, and directly after I heard a familiar voice exclaim—“Bodder de ole han’! Oh, how um do hurt!”“Can’t you sleep, Pomp?” I whispered, as I crept softly to his side.“Dat you, Mass’ George?”“Yes; I say, can’t you sleep?”“Yes, Mass’ George. Pomp can’t sleep ebber so, but dis ’tupid han’ won’t let um.”“Does it hurt?”“Yes. Big hot fly in um keep goin’ froo. Pomp goin’ take off de rag.”“No, no; let it be; it will soon be better. Go to sleep.”“Han’ say no go sleep. Let’s go an’ try find de coon.”“No, no; we are not at home now. We can’t go out of the fort.”“Out ob de fort?”“Well, outside of the big fence.”Pomp gave a little laugh.“Why, Pomp go over easy ’nuff.”“But it’s against orders,” I said. “Here, I can’t sleep either. Let’s go and have a talk to the sentries.”Pomp jumped up at once, and without waking the others, we walked slowly to the gate, where one of the sentries challenged us and let us go on, after recognising me, the man saying with a laugh—“That anybody with you, sir?”“Yes,” I said; “our boy Pompey.”“Oh! Shouldn’t hardly have thought it. Looks like a bit o’ the black night out for a walk in a pair o’ white cotton drawers.”“Him laugh at Pomp,” said the boy, as we went on.“Yes; it was only his fun.”“But what um mean ’bout de dark night in cottum drawer?”“Oh, nothing. Nonsense!”“Yes, nonsense; Pomp know better. Night can’t wear cottum drawer. All ’tuff.”“Hush! Don’t talk so loud.”“Den why say dat, an’ make fun ob poor lil nigger? I know dat man. Wait bit; I make fun ob him, an’ Mass’ George an’ me laugh den.”“Will you be quiet, Pomp?”“Yes; Pomp be ebber so quiet. Wait till laugh at him.”“Who goes there?” came from just ahead, out of the darkness.“Mass’ George an’ me,” said Pomp, promptly.I hastened to give the word, and we were allowed to pass on, to be challenged again and again, till we reached the part of the palisade on the farther side of the block-house.Here the sentry proved to be one of the men who had rowed out to us in Colonel Preston’s boat; and as he asked about my wound and Pomp’s hand, we stopped by him where upon the raised platform he stood, firelock in hand, gazing over the great fence toward the forest.“So your hurts wouldn’t let you sleep, eh?” he said. “Well, we must pay the Indians off for it if they come nigh; but it’s my belief that they won’t.”Then he fell to questioning me in a low tone about my adventures, and I had to tell him how Pomp and I escaped.“I should have liked to have been with you, my lad,” he said. “I’m not fond of fighting; had too much along with Colonel Preston; but I should have liked to have been with you when the arrows were flying.”“I wish you had been,” I said.“Do you? Well, come, I like that; it sounds friendly. Yes, I wish I’d been there. The cowards, shooting at people who’ve been soldiers, but who want to settle down into peaceable folk, and wouldn’t interfere with them a bit. I only wish they’d come; I don’t think they’d want to come any more.”“That’s what my father says,” I observed. “He thinks the Indians want a good lesson.”“So they do, my lad, so they do. Let’s take, for instance, your place, which they burned down last night. Now what for, but out of sheer nasty mischief! There’s plenty of room for them, and there’s plenty of room for us. If they think they’re going to frighten us away they’re mistaken. They don’t know what Englishmen are, do they, little nigger?”“How Pomp know what de Injum tink?” said the boy, promptly.The man turned to me and gave me a nudge, as he laughingly continued, in the whisper in which the conversation was carried on—“Ah, well, they don’t know, but if they’d come, I think we should teach them, for every one here’s fighting for his home, without thinking about those who are fighting for their wives and children as well. You don’t understand that yet, squire.”“I think I do,” I said. “I suppose a man would fight for his wife and children in the same way as I would try and fight for my father.”“Well, suppose it is about the same. You’ll have to fight some day, perhaps.”“Mass’ George fight dreffle,” put in Pomp. “Shoot lot of Injum.”“Nonsense, Pomp!” I said, hurriedly.“Not nonsense. Pomp see um tummle down when. Mass’ George shoot um.”“Why, you didn’t fire on the Indians, did you, squire?” said the man.“Lot o’ times,” said Pomp, quickly.The man let his firelock go into the hollow of his left arm, and he shook my hand warmly, as Pomp stood staring over the fence into the darkness.“I like that,” he said, as I felt very uncomfortable and shrinking. “But then I might have known it. Your father and Colonel Preston didn’t hit it very well together, but the colonel always said your father was a very brave officer, quiet as he seemed—and like father, like son. Feel chilly?”“No,” I said.“Well, it isn’t cold, but after being so hot all day it feels a bit different. Heigho! I shouldn’t at all mind having a good sleep. One gets tired of watching for nothing.”“Sit down and have a sleep,” I said. “I’ll hold your gun and keep guard.”“Will you, my lad?” he said, eagerly.“Yes; I can’t sleep, and I’ll wake you directly if there is anything wrong.”“Come, that’s friendly,” said the man. “I like that, and I’d give anything for an hour’s sleep. Catch hold; I’ll lie down here. You’ll be sure and call me?”“You may trust me.”“Bah!” cried the man in an ill-used tone, and snatching back his firelock, “that’s done it.”“What is the matter?” I said, wonderingly.“You said you may trust me.”“Yes; I did.”“That did it. It’s just what I said to the colonel when he asked me if I could keep on sentry without going to sleep.”“But you would not go to sleep without leaving some one else to watch.”“No,” he said, sternly, “and I won’t skulk. I’ve been digging and planting so long that I’ve forgotten my soldiering. No, sir, a man who goes to sleep at his post when facing the enemy ought to be shot, and,” he added with emphasis, “he deserves it.”“Here um come, Mass’ George,” whispered Pomp just at that moment.“What—to relieve guard?” I said, quickly, as I thought of the sentry’s mistake.“No, Mass’ George, de Injum.”

It was a miserable scene upon which I gazed, in spite of its being a bright clear morning; but as I grasped where I was, and shook off the drowsy confusion, there was a feeling of thankfulness in my heart, for the dark night had passed away, and we had not been attacked by the Indians.

But the moment I had felt more cheerful, down came a depressing cloud, as I remembered our row for life, our narrow escape, and the reflection of the fire I had seen.

“Poor old house!” I sighed to myself, for it was so terrible that the beautiful little home should have been utterly destroyed; and it all seemed to come up before me with its high-pitched gable ends, the rough pine porch, the lead-paned windows that came over from England; and as I saw it all in imagination once more, I fancied how the passion-flowers and other creepers must have looked crisping and curling up as the flames reached them; and what with my miserable thoughts, the stiffness I felt from my previous day’s exertions, and the pain from my little wound, if ever I had felt horribly depressed, I did then.

“Mass’ George hungly?” said a familiar voice; and there was Pomp’s contented face before me, as he came up hugging to him some slices of bread.

“No,” I said, ill-humouredly, “I can’t eat; my leg hurts me so.”

“Pomp can,” he said; “and him hand hurt too. Missie Morgan want to see Mass’ George.”

I took one of the pieces of bread Pomp gave me, and began to eat mechanically as I walked across the enclosure by the various little groups of settlers and their families, to where my father was busy with the other officers superintending the construction of a barricade outside the gate, so as to divide the Indians in case of an attack, and force them to come up to the entrance one by one.

“Ah, my boy,” said my father, quickly, “how is the leg?”

“Hurts,” I said, in an ill-used tone.

“Naturally,” he cried with a laugh. “There, don’t be down-hearted about a little pain. I came and had a look at you, but you were asleep. There, do you see how we are getting ready for your Indian friends? We hope to give them such a severe lesson that they will leave us alone in future.”

“Then you think they will attack us, father?” I said. “Some one just now told me that all was quiet, and that the Indians had gone.”

“That is the very reason why I think they will attack us, my boy, and the sooner the better, George. It must come, and I should like them to get their sharp lesson and go; for I want to hang this up for an ornament or to turn it into a pruning-hook.”

He touched his sword as he spoke, and turned to Morgan, who came up.

“How is she?”

“Doctor says she’s very feverish, sir, but he thinks she is going on all right.”

“I am very, very sorry, Morgan,” said my father, sadly. “I feel as if I were to blame for bringing you people out to this wilderness.”

“I teclare to cootness, sir,” began Morgan, in a high-pitched Welsh fashion; but he checked himself and smiled. “There, sir, don’t you talk like that. Wilderness? Why, it’s a pleasure to do a bit of gardening here. See what rich deep soil it is, and how the things rush up into growth.”

“Very poor consolation for your wife, Morgan,” said my father, dryly. “All that does not make her wound the more bearable.”

“Bah! Nonsense, sir! She don’t mind. Why, as she said to me just now, she wouldn’t have got a wound from an Indian’s arrow if she had stopped at home, but the knife might have slipped, and she might have cut herself, or upset a pot of boiling water over her, or failed down the cellar steps and broken a dish and run a piece into her side.”

“Well, that’s good philosophy, Morgan, and very comforting to me. What do you say, George, are you sorry you came?”

“No, father, not at all,” I replied, for unwittingly I had finished the big slice of bread, and felt all the better for the food. “I only wish I were a man, and could fight.”

“Don’t wish that, my lad,” he said quickly. “There is nothing more glorious in life than being a boy. But there, I have no time to waste in preaching to you about that,” he said, laughing. “It would be labour thrown away. No boy can believe it. He has to grow into a man, and look back: then he does. There, don’t worry yourself till your leg is better, but do any little thing to be useful, and if an attack is made, keep with Morgan. You can load.”

“Yes, I can load,” I said to myself, as I limped off with Pomp following me, looking very proud of his hand being in a sling, and we went into the part of the block-house where poor Sarah was lying.

As I crossed the enclosure I seemed to understand now why it had been contrived as it was to form an outer defence, which, if taken, only meant that the enemy had a more formidable place to attack, for the block-house seemed to my inexperienced eyes to be impregnable.

As I quietly entered the place, I encountered the doctor.

“Ha!” he said; “come to see me?”

I explained that I had come to see our housekeeper.

“Asleep,” he said. “Don’t disturb her. Let’s have a look at your wound.”

He drew me into his rough room, and gave me no little pain as he rebandaged my leg, Pomp standing by and looking on.

“Oh, that’s all right, my lad,” said the doctor. “Smarts, of course, but you’ll soon mend up. Very different if it had gone into your chest. Now, Ebony, let’s look at your hand.”

“Pomp, sah,” said the boy with dignity, “not Eb’ny.”

“Oh, well then, Pomp. Now then. How’s the hand?”

“On’y got lil hole in um, sah. Hurt lil bit. Oh! Hurt big bit, you do dat.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” said the doctor, examining and rebandaging the wound. “There, that will soon be well if you do not use it. Well, young Bruton, so they burnt you out, did they, last night?”

“Yes,” I said, bitterly.

“Oh, never mind. You heard what was said. Well, let’s go and see what they are doing. We’re non-combatants, eh?”

We walked out into the open square, after the young doctor had admonished the black woman who had been appointed the first nurse to be watchful and attentive to her patient.

There was something going on down by the gate, and I forgot all about the pain in my leg as I accompanied the doctor there, continuing my breakfast on the second slice of bread Pomp handed to me.

We soon learned what caused the bustle. A strong party of well-armed scouts was out in the direction of the forest, which lay some distance back from the block-house now, as clearing after clearing had been made, and turned into plantations; and these scouts, with a second line in support, were ready to give the alarm and arrest the first attack, their orders being to fall back slowly to the gate, so that ample time would be given at the alarm of the first shot for the busy party now being sent out to retreat and get under cover. For now that every one was safe, it had been decided to try and bring in, as far as was practicable, the most valuable things from the nearest houses.

I was not long in mounting to a good place inside the great palisade, where I could command a view of what was going on, and soon saw that a couple of lines of men had been made with military precision, extending from the gate to the General’s house, which had been voted the first to be cleared; and between these lines, under the command of Colonel Preston, a strong body of the slaves—men only at first, but as the work went on women too—were soon going and coming, bearing the most valuable of the household chattels, and these were so stacked in the centre of the enclosure that they would be safe so long as the palisade kept the enemy at bay, and would afterwards act as a line of defence.

In little over half an hour another house was treated in the same way, and all through that day the work went on, till a goodly stack of the best of the things had been brought in, along with stores of provisions, that in the first hurry had been left behind. As this went on the people who had been sick at heart and despondent began to look more hopeful, and family after family had their goods arranged so that they were able to make comfortable bivouacs out in the middle of the square; but these were all arranged under the orders of the General and his officers, so as to form places of defence, to which the defenders of the palisade could flee and be under cover, the whole of the new barricade being arranged so that a way was left leading up to the main entrance of the block-house.

I grasped all this from my position of looker-on, Pomp never leaving my side, and asking questions which I tried to answer, so that he could understand.

And he did comprehend too, much better than I should have expected, for toward evening, after the day had passed, with the scouts relieved twice over without having seen the slightest token of Indians being near, all at once he said to me—

“When Injum come an’ shoot an’ get over de big fence, all dat make great big fire.”

My father’s words about the great enemy we had to fear came back to me at this, and it was with a curiously uncomfortable feeling that I left my look-out place for the second time to go and partake of the food that had been prepared.

For the garrison of the fort were rapidly settling down to make the best of their position, and all was being done as to the serving out of food with military precision, the General having drilled his followers in the past, so that they might be prepared for such an emergency as this; and it was quite wonderful how soon the confusion and disorder of the first hours had changed to regular ways.

And now the night would soon be here—a time looked forward to with the greatest of anxiety by all.

The scouts were called in by sound of bugle, and at sundown the gates were barricaded, and sentries placed all round our defences. Fires were put out, and as darkness fell, and the customary chorus of the reptiles arose from the forest and distant swamps, a curious feeling of awe came over me where I sat watching by my father, who, after a long and arduous day’s work was sleeping heavily, Morgan close at hand, with Pomp and Hannibal too.

I could not sleep, for there was a dull, gnawing pain in my wound; and so I sat in discomfort and misery, thinking that though the sentries were all on the watch, the place would not be so safe now that my father was asleep.

The moon was hidden, but the stars shone down brightly, and I sat back, leaning against Sarah’s big bundle, in which some of the arrows were still sticking, gazing up at the spangled heavens, listening to the bull-frogs, and thinking how far off they sounded as compared to when I had heard them at home.

I was listening and wondering whether the Indians would come, when I heard a rustling sound close by, and directly after a low muttering. But I did not pay any heed, thinking that Morgan or one of the blacks had turned in his sleep; but the noise came again and again, and then there was a loud ejaculation, and directly after I heard a familiar voice exclaim—

“Bodder de ole han’! Oh, how um do hurt!”

“Can’t you sleep, Pomp?” I whispered, as I crept softly to his side.

“Dat you, Mass’ George?”

“Yes; I say, can’t you sleep?”

“Yes, Mass’ George. Pomp can’t sleep ebber so, but dis ’tupid han’ won’t let um.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes. Big hot fly in um keep goin’ froo. Pomp goin’ take off de rag.”

“No, no; let it be; it will soon be better. Go to sleep.”

“Han’ say no go sleep. Let’s go an’ try find de coon.”

“No, no; we are not at home now. We can’t go out of the fort.”

“Out ob de fort?”

“Well, outside of the big fence.”

Pomp gave a little laugh.

“Why, Pomp go over easy ’nuff.”

“But it’s against orders,” I said. “Here, I can’t sleep either. Let’s go and have a talk to the sentries.”

Pomp jumped up at once, and without waking the others, we walked slowly to the gate, where one of the sentries challenged us and let us go on, after recognising me, the man saying with a laugh—

“That anybody with you, sir?”

“Yes,” I said; “our boy Pompey.”

“Oh! Shouldn’t hardly have thought it. Looks like a bit o’ the black night out for a walk in a pair o’ white cotton drawers.”

“Him laugh at Pomp,” said the boy, as we went on.

“Yes; it was only his fun.”

“But what um mean ’bout de dark night in cottum drawer?”

“Oh, nothing. Nonsense!”

“Yes, nonsense; Pomp know better. Night can’t wear cottum drawer. All ’tuff.”

“Hush! Don’t talk so loud.”

“Den why say dat, an’ make fun ob poor lil nigger? I know dat man. Wait bit; I make fun ob him, an’ Mass’ George an’ me laugh den.”

“Will you be quiet, Pomp?”

“Yes; Pomp be ebber so quiet. Wait till laugh at him.”

“Who goes there?” came from just ahead, out of the darkness.

“Mass’ George an’ me,” said Pomp, promptly.

I hastened to give the word, and we were allowed to pass on, to be challenged again and again, till we reached the part of the palisade on the farther side of the block-house.

Here the sentry proved to be one of the men who had rowed out to us in Colonel Preston’s boat; and as he asked about my wound and Pomp’s hand, we stopped by him where upon the raised platform he stood, firelock in hand, gazing over the great fence toward the forest.

“So your hurts wouldn’t let you sleep, eh?” he said. “Well, we must pay the Indians off for it if they come nigh; but it’s my belief that they won’t.”

Then he fell to questioning me in a low tone about my adventures, and I had to tell him how Pomp and I escaped.

“I should have liked to have been with you, my lad,” he said. “I’m not fond of fighting; had too much along with Colonel Preston; but I should have liked to have been with you when the arrows were flying.”

“I wish you had been,” I said.

“Do you? Well, come, I like that; it sounds friendly. Yes, I wish I’d been there. The cowards, shooting at people who’ve been soldiers, but who want to settle down into peaceable folk, and wouldn’t interfere with them a bit. I only wish they’d come; I don’t think they’d want to come any more.”

“That’s what my father says,” I observed. “He thinks the Indians want a good lesson.”

“So they do, my lad, so they do. Let’s take, for instance, your place, which they burned down last night. Now what for, but out of sheer nasty mischief! There’s plenty of room for them, and there’s plenty of room for us. If they think they’re going to frighten us away they’re mistaken. They don’t know what Englishmen are, do they, little nigger?”

“How Pomp know what de Injum tink?” said the boy, promptly.

The man turned to me and gave me a nudge, as he laughingly continued, in the whisper in which the conversation was carried on—

“Ah, well, they don’t know, but if they’d come, I think we should teach them, for every one here’s fighting for his home, without thinking about those who are fighting for their wives and children as well. You don’t understand that yet, squire.”

“I think I do,” I said. “I suppose a man would fight for his wife and children in the same way as I would try and fight for my father.”

“Well, suppose it is about the same. You’ll have to fight some day, perhaps.”

“Mass’ George fight dreffle,” put in Pomp. “Shoot lot of Injum.”

“Nonsense, Pomp!” I said, hurriedly.

“Not nonsense. Pomp see um tummle down when. Mass’ George shoot um.”

“Why, you didn’t fire on the Indians, did you, squire?” said the man.

“Lot o’ times,” said Pomp, quickly.

The man let his firelock go into the hollow of his left arm, and he shook my hand warmly, as Pomp stood staring over the fence into the darkness.

“I like that,” he said, as I felt very uncomfortable and shrinking. “But then I might have known it. Your father and Colonel Preston didn’t hit it very well together, but the colonel always said your father was a very brave officer, quiet as he seemed—and like father, like son. Feel chilly?”

“No,” I said.

“Well, it isn’t cold, but after being so hot all day it feels a bit different. Heigho! I shouldn’t at all mind having a good sleep. One gets tired of watching for nothing.”

“Sit down and have a sleep,” I said. “I’ll hold your gun and keep guard.”

“Will you, my lad?” he said, eagerly.

“Yes; I can’t sleep, and I’ll wake you directly if there is anything wrong.”

“Come, that’s friendly,” said the man. “I like that, and I’d give anything for an hour’s sleep. Catch hold; I’ll lie down here. You’ll be sure and call me?”

“You may trust me.”

“Bah!” cried the man in an ill-used tone, and snatching back his firelock, “that’s done it.”

“What is the matter?” I said, wonderingly.

“You said you may trust me.”

“Yes; I did.”

“That did it. It’s just what I said to the colonel when he asked me if I could keep on sentry without going to sleep.”

“But you would not go to sleep without leaving some one else to watch.”

“No,” he said, sternly, “and I won’t skulk. I’ve been digging and planting so long that I’ve forgotten my soldiering. No, sir, a man who goes to sleep at his post when facing the enemy ought to be shot, and,” he added with emphasis, “he deserves it.”

“Here um come, Mass’ George,” whispered Pomp just at that moment.

“What—to relieve guard?” I said, quickly, as I thought of the sentry’s mistake.

“No, Mass’ George, de Injum.”

Chapter Thirty Five.The sentry craned his neck forward over the great fence staring out into the gloom, and I followed his example, my heart beating heavily the while, the regular throbs seeming to rise right up to my throat in a way that was painful; but I could see nothing. There was the great star-specked sky reaching down towards earth, and ending suddenly in a clearly defined line which I knew was the edge of the forest beyond the plantations, which all lay in darkness that was almost black.I strained my eyes, and held my breath, looking and listening, but could make out nothing, and at last I placed my lips close to Pomp’s ear.“Where are they?” I said.“Dah!”As he uttered that one word he stretched out his black hand, pointing straight away toward the forest; but still I could see nothing, and there was not a sound.At that moment the sentry laid his hand upon my shoulder, and said softly, “Is he playing tricks with us?”“No,” I answered; “he thinks he sees them. His eyes are wonderful by night.”“Well, mine are not, for I can see nothing or hear anything either.”“Are you sure, Pomp?” I whispered.“Yes; sure,” he said. “Big lot of Injum coming to fight.”“Hadn’t you better give the alarm?” I said to the sentry.“I can’t give the alarm till I’m certain there’s danger coming,” he said, rather sulkily. “I haven’t got eyes like a cat, and I don’t know that he can see them yet.”I could not help sympathising with the man as he continued—“’Spose I fire,” he said, “and the enemy don’t come on; nobody has seen them, and nice and stupid I should look.”“But Pomp says he’s sure.”“I’m not,” said the man, gruffly.“Be ready then, and fire the moment they begin to make a rush,” I said, excitedly. Then, turning to the boy, I whispered, “Now then; tell me once more, can you see the Indians?”“Yes, dah,” he said, quietly.“You are sure?”“Yes, suah. Dey come now. Let Pomp shoot.”“No, no; come with me,” I said, catching hold of his arm. “Let’s run to my father.”The boy was so accustomed to obey me, that he left the place directly, and hurried with me across the enclosure in and out among the camping groups, to where our few poor belongings lay, and I at once awakened my father.“Pomp has seen the Indians coming on,” I said.He started up, and so dull and heavy had been his sleep that he did not understand me for the time.“The Indians, father,” I said.He sprang up on the instant then, and felt for his sword.“You say the boy saw them?”“Yes, coming on. We were with one of the sentries.”“But he has not fired. I should have heard.”“No, father, he would not believe Pomp could see them.”“Pomp could see um—big lots,” said the boy.“That is enough,” said my father. “Tell the bugler—no; we will not show them that we know,” he said. “Come with me.”We followed him to where the General was lying on a blanket or two in the midst of his possessions, and he was on his feet in an instant giving his orders, which were conveyed here and there to the various officers, from whence they spread to the men so rapidly and silently that in a few minutes, almost without a sound, a hundred well-armed defenders of the fort were on their way to the fence in twenty little squads, each of which reinforced the sentries, and stood waiting for the attack.So silent and unchanged was everything when I played the part of guide, and led my father and the General to where we had been watching, that my heart sank, and I felt guilty of raising a false alarm. Then I half shrank away as I heard the General question the sentry, and he replied that he had neither seen nor heard anything. Just then my father turned to me.“Where’s the boy?”“Here, Pomp,” I whispered; but I looked round in vain, and after a few minutes’ search I was fain to confess that he had gone.“It is some trick,” whispered my father, with suppressed anger. “I cannot hear a sound.”“No; I feel sure he was in earnest. He certainly believed he saw the Indians.”My father turned to the General, and they conversed together in a low voice for some minutes, during which I stood there feeling as if I were wrong, and forgetting that even if I were it was only a case of being over anxious in our cause.“No, no,” I heard the General say quietly; “don’t blame the boys. Of course it is vexatious, and seems like harassing the men for nothing; but it has its good side, for it proves how quickly we can man our defences. Well, what do you say—shall we go back to our beds? There seems to be no danger. Ah, here is Preston. Well, have you been all round?”“Right round, sir, and there does not seem to be anything moving. A false alarm, I think.”“Yes,” said the General, “a false alarm, and— What is it?”My father had caught his arm in a strong grip, and pointed over the palisade.“I don’t know what it is,” he whispered; “but something is moving out yonder, a hundred yards away.”Amidst a dead silence every eye was fixed in the direction pointed to by my father; but no one else could make anything out, and the General said—“No; I cannot see it.”“Are you sure?” whispered my father. “George, are you there?”I replied in a whisper too, and crept to his side.“Look. Can you make out anything?” he said.I looked long and intently, and was obliged to answer—“No.”“Quick! Try and find that boy,” said my father, angrily now. “He ought to have been here.”Bang!bang! Then report after report, followed by a volley quite from the other side of the enclosure; and, horrible as it seemed, followed as it was by a burst of yells, I felt my heart leap with satisfaction.There was a rush being made for the spot whence the firing had come; but my father’s voice rang out, calling upon the men to stand fast, and it was well that his order was promptly obeyed, for almost immediately after there was a whizzing sound that I well knew, accompanied by a sharp series of pats as of arrows striking wood, and we knew that the Indians were attacking on our side too.Then followed the quick firm command, and the darkness was cut by the flashes of a dozen fire-locks, whose reports went rolling away, to be echoed by the great trees of the forest beyond the clearings.Then nothing was heard but the quick beating and hissing of the iron ramrods in the guns, while I stood close under the shelter of the fence, listening intently in the terrible silence, and trying to make out whether the Indians were near.Again came the report of a firelock, and a volley from nearer the gate, followed by a burst of yells; and a minute later a fresh volley, and the same defiant shouting, just as if the Indians had made their attack in four different places, but had been checked by the watchfulness of our men, who had been thoroughly prepared for the attacks.I was wondering to myself whether the Indians were in a body, and had come on in one place, and then hurried on to the others, or were in four different bodies; but my wonderings soon ceased, for I quite started at hearing a voice close to my ear.“No got arrow ’tick in um dis time, Mass’ George. Tell um Injum coming again.”“Where? Where?” I whispered.“Pomp see um crawl ’long de groun’ like ’gator,” he said. “Dah—one, two, tick, nineteen, twenty.”I gazed intently over the fence, but could only see the dark ground; but Pomp’s warning was too valuable to be trifled with. He had proved himself now, and I hurried to where my father stood ready with twenty of our men, and told him.He gave orders, and half the men fired slowly, one after the other, the instructions being to those who held their fire, that if they could make out the bodies of the crawling Indians by the flashing of their comrades’ pieces, they were to fire too.The rapid scattered reports were followed by a furious burst of yells; there was the rush of feet, sounds as of blows struck against the stout poles, and directly after, dimly-seen against the starlit sky, dark grotesque-looking heads appeared as at least a dozen of the Indians gained the top of the defence, but only to be beaten back by the butt-ends of the men’s fire-locks, all save two who dropped over in our midst, and fought desperately for a time before they were despatched.As silence—an ominous silence full of danger and portent—fell upon us again here, we could tell that quite as desperate a struggle was going on at other points of the palisading. Flash was succeeded by report and yell, so loud and continuous that we knew now that the Indians were delivering their attack in four different places; and more than once I shuddered as I felt how terrible it would be should one of these bands gain an entry. I knew enough of such matters from old conversations with my father, to be able to grasp that if a party did get in over the stockade they would desperately attack one of our defending companies in the rear, and the others in response to their yells would come on at the same moment, when our numbers and discipline would be of little value in a hand-to-hand attack with the lithe savages, whose axes and knives would be deadly weapons at close quarters.For quite half an hour the firing and yelling continued. Then it ceased as quickly as it had begun, and the Indians seemed to have retreated.But there was no relaxation of our watchfulness, for we could not tell but that in their silent furtive way the enemy were preparing for a fresh assault, or perhaps merely resting and gathering together to come on in one spot all at once.“More likely to make a feint somewhere,” I heard the General say to my father. “If they do it will be to make a big attack somewhere else, and that is where the supports must be ready to flock down.”“You will see to that, sir?” said my father.“Yes. You and Preston cannot do better service,” continued the General, “so keep your places.”“Pomp,” I whispered; “where are you?”“Here, Mass’ George.”“Let’s go all round, and you can tell me where the Indians are gathering now.”“Pomp go outside,” he said, softly. “Climb over.”“No, no; they would see and kill you.”“No. Dey too ’tupid. I go ober. You gib leg lil hyste up.”“I tell you no. Come along with me, and let’s try and find out where they are.”“Much too dark, Mass’ George, but I look all de same, try and fine em.”“Quick then; come!”We started off, creeping along silently close inside the great palisade, and stopping to listen from time to time.We had left one of the parties that defended the palisade close to the far side of the gate behind for about twenty yards, when Pomp, who was first, suddenly stopped short, caught me by the wrist, and said softly—“You listum. Injum dah.”I placed my ear close to the paling, and stood for a few moments unable to make sure that the dull heavy rustling I heard meant anything; but at last I felt at one with my companion, for I felt convinced that a strong party was once more creeping up to the attack, and just to a spot where the sentries had not been placed.

The sentry craned his neck forward over the great fence staring out into the gloom, and I followed his example, my heart beating heavily the while, the regular throbs seeming to rise right up to my throat in a way that was painful; but I could see nothing. There was the great star-specked sky reaching down towards earth, and ending suddenly in a clearly defined line which I knew was the edge of the forest beyond the plantations, which all lay in darkness that was almost black.

I strained my eyes, and held my breath, looking and listening, but could make out nothing, and at last I placed my lips close to Pomp’s ear.

“Where are they?” I said.

“Dah!”

As he uttered that one word he stretched out his black hand, pointing straight away toward the forest; but still I could see nothing, and there was not a sound.

At that moment the sentry laid his hand upon my shoulder, and said softly, “Is he playing tricks with us?”

“No,” I answered; “he thinks he sees them. His eyes are wonderful by night.”

“Well, mine are not, for I can see nothing or hear anything either.”

“Are you sure, Pomp?” I whispered.

“Yes; sure,” he said. “Big lot of Injum coming to fight.”

“Hadn’t you better give the alarm?” I said to the sentry.

“I can’t give the alarm till I’m certain there’s danger coming,” he said, rather sulkily. “I haven’t got eyes like a cat, and I don’t know that he can see them yet.”

I could not help sympathising with the man as he continued—

“’Spose I fire,” he said, “and the enemy don’t come on; nobody has seen them, and nice and stupid I should look.”

“But Pomp says he’s sure.”

“I’m not,” said the man, gruffly.

“Be ready then, and fire the moment they begin to make a rush,” I said, excitedly. Then, turning to the boy, I whispered, “Now then; tell me once more, can you see the Indians?”

“Yes, dah,” he said, quietly.

“You are sure?”

“Yes, suah. Dey come now. Let Pomp shoot.”

“No, no; come with me,” I said, catching hold of his arm. “Let’s run to my father.”

The boy was so accustomed to obey me, that he left the place directly, and hurried with me across the enclosure in and out among the camping groups, to where our few poor belongings lay, and I at once awakened my father.

“Pomp has seen the Indians coming on,” I said.

He started up, and so dull and heavy had been his sleep that he did not understand me for the time.

“The Indians, father,” I said.

He sprang up on the instant then, and felt for his sword.

“You say the boy saw them?”

“Yes, coming on. We were with one of the sentries.”

“But he has not fired. I should have heard.”

“No, father, he would not believe Pomp could see them.”

“Pomp could see um—big lots,” said the boy.

“That is enough,” said my father. “Tell the bugler—no; we will not show them that we know,” he said. “Come with me.”

We followed him to where the General was lying on a blanket or two in the midst of his possessions, and he was on his feet in an instant giving his orders, which were conveyed here and there to the various officers, from whence they spread to the men so rapidly and silently that in a few minutes, almost without a sound, a hundred well-armed defenders of the fort were on their way to the fence in twenty little squads, each of which reinforced the sentries, and stood waiting for the attack.

So silent and unchanged was everything when I played the part of guide, and led my father and the General to where we had been watching, that my heart sank, and I felt guilty of raising a false alarm. Then I half shrank away as I heard the General question the sentry, and he replied that he had neither seen nor heard anything. Just then my father turned to me.

“Where’s the boy?”

“Here, Pomp,” I whispered; but I looked round in vain, and after a few minutes’ search I was fain to confess that he had gone.

“It is some trick,” whispered my father, with suppressed anger. “I cannot hear a sound.”

“No; I feel sure he was in earnest. He certainly believed he saw the Indians.”

My father turned to the General, and they conversed together in a low voice for some minutes, during which I stood there feeling as if I were wrong, and forgetting that even if I were it was only a case of being over anxious in our cause.

“No, no,” I heard the General say quietly; “don’t blame the boys. Of course it is vexatious, and seems like harassing the men for nothing; but it has its good side, for it proves how quickly we can man our defences. Well, what do you say—shall we go back to our beds? There seems to be no danger. Ah, here is Preston. Well, have you been all round?”

“Right round, sir, and there does not seem to be anything moving. A false alarm, I think.”

“Yes,” said the General, “a false alarm, and— What is it?”

My father had caught his arm in a strong grip, and pointed over the palisade.

“I don’t know what it is,” he whispered; “but something is moving out yonder, a hundred yards away.”

Amidst a dead silence every eye was fixed in the direction pointed to by my father; but no one else could make anything out, and the General said—

“No; I cannot see it.”

“Are you sure?” whispered my father. “George, are you there?”

I replied in a whisper too, and crept to his side.

“Look. Can you make out anything?” he said.

I looked long and intently, and was obliged to answer—

“No.”

“Quick! Try and find that boy,” said my father, angrily now. “He ought to have been here.”

Bang!bang! Then report after report, followed by a volley quite from the other side of the enclosure; and, horrible as it seemed, followed as it was by a burst of yells, I felt my heart leap with satisfaction.

There was a rush being made for the spot whence the firing had come; but my father’s voice rang out, calling upon the men to stand fast, and it was well that his order was promptly obeyed, for almost immediately after there was a whizzing sound that I well knew, accompanied by a sharp series of pats as of arrows striking wood, and we knew that the Indians were attacking on our side too.

Then followed the quick firm command, and the darkness was cut by the flashes of a dozen fire-locks, whose reports went rolling away, to be echoed by the great trees of the forest beyond the clearings.

Then nothing was heard but the quick beating and hissing of the iron ramrods in the guns, while I stood close under the shelter of the fence, listening intently in the terrible silence, and trying to make out whether the Indians were near.

Again came the report of a firelock, and a volley from nearer the gate, followed by a burst of yells; and a minute later a fresh volley, and the same defiant shouting, just as if the Indians had made their attack in four different places, but had been checked by the watchfulness of our men, who had been thoroughly prepared for the attacks.

I was wondering to myself whether the Indians were in a body, and had come on in one place, and then hurried on to the others, or were in four different bodies; but my wonderings soon ceased, for I quite started at hearing a voice close to my ear.

“No got arrow ’tick in um dis time, Mass’ George. Tell um Injum coming again.”

“Where? Where?” I whispered.

“Pomp see um crawl ’long de groun’ like ’gator,” he said. “Dah—one, two, tick, nineteen, twenty.”

I gazed intently over the fence, but could only see the dark ground; but Pomp’s warning was too valuable to be trifled with. He had proved himself now, and I hurried to where my father stood ready with twenty of our men, and told him.

He gave orders, and half the men fired slowly, one after the other, the instructions being to those who held their fire, that if they could make out the bodies of the crawling Indians by the flashing of their comrades’ pieces, they were to fire too.

The rapid scattered reports were followed by a furious burst of yells; there was the rush of feet, sounds as of blows struck against the stout poles, and directly after, dimly-seen against the starlit sky, dark grotesque-looking heads appeared as at least a dozen of the Indians gained the top of the defence, but only to be beaten back by the butt-ends of the men’s fire-locks, all save two who dropped over in our midst, and fought desperately for a time before they were despatched.

As silence—an ominous silence full of danger and portent—fell upon us again here, we could tell that quite as desperate a struggle was going on at other points of the palisading. Flash was succeeded by report and yell, so loud and continuous that we knew now that the Indians were delivering their attack in four different places; and more than once I shuddered as I felt how terrible it would be should one of these bands gain an entry. I knew enough of such matters from old conversations with my father, to be able to grasp that if a party did get in over the stockade they would desperately attack one of our defending companies in the rear, and the others in response to their yells would come on at the same moment, when our numbers and discipline would be of little value in a hand-to-hand attack with the lithe savages, whose axes and knives would be deadly weapons at close quarters.

For quite half an hour the firing and yelling continued. Then it ceased as quickly as it had begun, and the Indians seemed to have retreated.

But there was no relaxation of our watchfulness, for we could not tell but that in their silent furtive way the enemy were preparing for a fresh assault, or perhaps merely resting and gathering together to come on in one spot all at once.

“More likely to make a feint somewhere,” I heard the General say to my father. “If they do it will be to make a big attack somewhere else, and that is where the supports must be ready to flock down.”

“You will see to that, sir?” said my father.

“Yes. You and Preston cannot do better service,” continued the General, “so keep your places.”

“Pomp,” I whispered; “where are you?”

“Here, Mass’ George.”

“Let’s go all round, and you can tell me where the Indians are gathering now.”

“Pomp go outside,” he said, softly. “Climb over.”

“No, no; they would see and kill you.”

“No. Dey too ’tupid. I go ober. You gib leg lil hyste up.”

“I tell you no. Come along with me, and let’s try and find out where they are.”

“Much too dark, Mass’ George, but I look all de same, try and fine em.”

“Quick then; come!”

We started off, creeping along silently close inside the great palisade, and stopping to listen from time to time.

We had left one of the parties that defended the palisade close to the far side of the gate behind for about twenty yards, when Pomp, who was first, suddenly stopped short, caught me by the wrist, and said softly—

“You listum. Injum dah.”

I placed my ear close to the paling, and stood for a few moments unable to make sure that the dull heavy rustling I heard meant anything; but at last I felt at one with my companion, for I felt convinced that a strong party was once more creeping up to the attack, and just to a spot where the sentries had not been placed.

Back to IndexNext