“And the water hasn’t arrived yet,” said Major Morris, laughing.
“No, the water hasn’t arrived yet,” answered Barton Brownell. “As soon as I reached the spring I dropped the pail and ran for all I was worth, and hid in the brush along the mountain side. I stayed there two days and nearly starved to death. Then they hunted me out, and I received this wound. But I escaped them and made my way through the jungle and over the rice-fields to here, and here I am.”
“You say there were twenty-eight prisoners all told,” cried Ben. “Did you ever hear anything of my brother, Larry Russell?”
“Larry Russell?” repeated Barton Brownell, thoughtfully. “To be sure I did. He is a sailor from the Olympia, isn’t he?”
“Yes! yes! And was he with you?”
“He was, at first. But he wasn’t when I left. They moved some of the prisoners away, and he was among them. So he was your brother? That beats all, doesn’t it—to think I should fall in with you in such a place as this!”