The two went out on the platform. The wind was so strong as to nearly lift them off their feet, and the darkness so great that they barely discerned the form of the sentinel beside them.
"Where is he?" asked the commander.
"He will speak in a minute."
They listened, and finally the suffering man called out:
"Hello there, sentinel; hain't Peterson come out yet?"
"Yes, here I am; what do you want?" replied and asked the ranger.
"Don't you know me, Peterson? Don't you remember Madison Drake who was on the flat-boat with you?"
"Yes; but the one I knowed war killed that night. Be you him?"
"I am he. I was not killed, although well-nigh so. But, if you will not admit me, I will not live long, as I am nearly perished now."
"Have patience, Drake, a few minutes and I will see about it."