“Well, sir, you mustn’t let him die,” muttered Samson; and there was a peculiar rasping sound.
“What are you doing?”
“Only getting off my leather coat, sir. Lay that over him. It may rain again any time, and he might be getting cold.”
Fred caught the coat, laid it gently over the wounded man, and he was in the act of bending down to hear what he whispered by way of thanks, when there was a sharp report close at hand.
“Quick! An attack,” said Fred, excitedly; and the next moment he and Samson were struggling out of the wilderness, just as shot after shot ran along the line, as the alarm spread, and directly after the ear-piercing call rang out on the clear night air, and was echoed again and again among the distant hills.
Chapter Thirty Six.
Colonel Forrester is not Angry.
It was no easy task to run the gauntlet of the sentinels, now that the alarm had spread, for they were falling back upon the camp, and twice over Fred was challenged, and had to run the risk of a bullet; but partly by knowing the ground far better than those who challenged, and partly from the darkness, the pair succeeded in reaching the little camp, to find all in commotion, horses saddled, men ready to mount, and an intense desire existent to know from which side to expect the attack.