“Thanks! All right. I shall find the way,” answered Justin.
And the two men parted—Captain Bannister returning towards the camp and Colonel Rosenthal proceeding on his way.
It was the same dark and narrow path, through the thick, impenetrable forest, that he had travelled as a prisoner on the night previous. And his progress was of course as slow and difficult now as it had been then.
His soul was troubled, too, for the boys he had left behind. He was somewhat comforted by the assurance of Monck that their lives should be safe, and he was cheered by the recollection of Wing’s words; but still he was most anxious to get on to W., that he might at once see to the exchange of the prisoners.
Two hours of slow riding brought him to the high road, upon which he emerged just as the moon was rising, and flooding all the valley with light.
Here, where there was no obstruction, he put spurs to his horse, and flew along at a furious rate of speed for several miles, when suddenly his horse fell lame.
He dismounted, and examined the creature’s feet, hoping that he should find a pebble, or some transient irritation of that sort, the removal of which should restore the horse to the free use of his limbs. But he found nothing, and was at length forced to give up the search in the belief that the cause of lameness was something more serious and permanent than he had supposed. Justin was as merciful as he was courageous. He did not mount again; but, taking the bridle in his hand, walked on, leading the steed after him.
In this manner he had progressed slowly over another mile of the road, when he suddenly heard the clatter of horse’s hoofs behind, and the next moment Wing rode up, and drew rein beside him.
“Wing!” he joyfully exclaimed.
“Yes, my Colonel, Wing. I am like the bad penny, always coming back to you,” said the lad gayly, as he dismounted, and leading his horse, walked by his colonel’s side.