“It'll heal,” I returned shortly. “Where is the other gang? Are they gone?”
“No; there's half a dozen of 'em out in the parlor, I reckon.”
“You'd better tell him,” said Fitzhugh, shifting an unpleasant task.
“Well,” said Wainwright, “we heard orders given to shoot the first man that comes out before morning, but before all to kill you if you sticks your nose outside before sun-up.”
The amiable intentions of the victors set me to thinking. If it was important to keep me here till morning, it must be important to me to get out. There was no duty to keep me here, for I need fear no attack on the boy who was with us. I looked at my watch, and found it was near one o'clock.
“Tie those blankets together,” I ordered, as soon as I was able to get my feet.
The men obeyed me in silence, while Wainwright vainly tried to quiet the child. I was satisfied to have him cry, for the more noise he made the less our movements would be heard. I had a plan that I thought might be carried out.
While the others were at work, I cautiously raised the window and peered through the shutters. The rain was falling briskly, and the wind still blew a gale. I thought I distinguished the dark figure of a man on guard within a few feet of the building, and my heart sank.
“How many are in the parlor, Wilson?” I asked.
Wilson applied his eye to the keyhole.