"Is mother and sister well?" asked the daughter, looking up in her father's face.
"Yes, well, but anxious enough about you."
"Our house and place is destroyed forever."
"Who cares, sis? Who cares? Haven't I you left? Don't mention it."
"But the servants! All were killed except poor Cato there."
"Ah! that is bad! that is bad! I mourn them, poor fellows! poor fellows! But I have my own darling child left! my own darling child!" and the overjoyed father again pressed his daughter to him.
"But what am I about?" he suddenly asked, with a surprised look. "I haven't spoken to the others here. Lieutenant, allow me to congratulate you, sir, on this happy state of affairs. I congratulate you, sir."
Captain Prescott had a way of repeating his remarks, while his radiant face was all aglow with his hearty good-humor, that was irresistibly contagious in itself. His jovial kindness won every heart, and he was almost idolized by his men.
"A happy turn, indeed; but, Captain, I am somewhat surprised to see you here," said Lieutenant Canfield as he grasped the offered hand.
"Ah! yes, I haven't explained that yet; but the fact is, Lieutenant, you hadn't been gone two hours—not two hours—when the General told me I was to take charge of the garrison at the settlement, where my wife and daughter now are. I wasn't sorry to hear that—not sorry to hear that, and as you were to be Lieutenant, I didn't think it would be unpleasant to you either to be located so near our family—not unpleasant at all, eh, Lieutenant?"