“I am sorry to say it is just as bad as ever, if not worse.”
Raymond climbed into the tree and inspected the injured limb, which was considerably swollen.
“It certainty does look bad,” he said. “One thing is certain, you are not able to sneak through the woods now, and it’s doubtful if you can do it after sundown.”
“Well, I suppose I can’t remain here forever,” returned the young soldier, rather helplessly.
“We can help him along, after I get my wind back,” put in Shamer, who had bound up the arrow wound he had received.
During his tour of inspection Raymond had been able to pick up a few stores, left near the shelter by the rocks, and he now offered both of his companions something to eat. Shamer partook readily of the food, but poor Dave was almost choked by it. The young soldier’s thoughts were constantly with Henry. Would he ever see his cousin again?
Raymond noticed how downcast the lad was, and did his best to cheer him up.
“Don’t take it so hard, Dave,” he said kindly. “Remember, he isn’t killed, and many a prisoner has escaped ere this. Besides, if they put him in prison, this war is bound to come to an end, sooner or later, and then he’ll be set free.”
“That may be true,” returned the young soldier. “But you know as well as I do what the French prisons are like—the very worst holes on earth.”
“That may be only evil report, my lad. True it is that some Frenchmen, even though they be our enemies, are as good-hearted as any Englishman ever dared to be.”