The body of the wounded man was carefully borne to the surface, and the young soldier, with a cry like a wolf seizing his young, lifted the beloved form in his arms, carried it out of the stockade and laid it upon the grass outside. The old man breathed heavily, and Floyd looked up with hope imprinted on every line of his young face. But, the Yankee was downcast in expression, and stood leaning against the wall of the stockade, at times striking his hand against it.
"Bring water, boys," cried Floyd, anxiously. "Water, water."
Two of the men hurried down to the spring with their canteens and brought them up full. The captain took one of these and washed the ghastly wound upon the skull and showed that it was fractured.
"Oh, heaven," cried the son. "My father, my dear father. Was it for this that I left you last night, to find you here, murdered by the hand of brutal savages? But he lives; you can see that, Seth. A little care might save him."
"Oh, he'll live fast enough," said Seth, gloomily. "It isn't that. I've seen that kind of a hurt afore and they ain't no good. Let me see what I can do, and while I am doing it, yew go and look arter the gal."
Floyd started up eagerly and hurried away, while the Yankee kneeled at the side of the wounded man, and looked at the wound, shaking his head. "'Twill be a pity for him if he does live, poor man," he muttered. "In course he'll be crazy while the bone presses down into the brain that way. Poor old man; I'd do any thing to save him, but I daren't touch that wound. It looks a little tew bad fur me to handle. Thar; he's coming round."
As he spoke, the eyes of the old man opened slowly and he stared vaguely about him like one in a dream. Seth tapped his forehead significantly and pointed at him, and the men understood. "Cracked," muttered the scout. "I know'd how it would be. Thar, old man. How dew yew feel?"
"Why don't you stop that horrible noise there?" demanded Floyd, angrily. "I won't have it in my house, you know. Silence, and listen to my orders at once."
"That's right, captaing. If any of them refuse to obey, you'd better order him forty lashes."
"What does he grin at me for?" cried the wounded man, starting to his feet. "What does he mean by it? Does he know that I am master here?"