“Fred, my boy,” said a husky voice. “Thank Heaven! he is safe.”
“Safe? Yes, father; only a little giddy. You have escaped?”
“Yes; they dragged us out in time. Look at the poor Hall.”
Fred turned to see that from half the windows the flames were rushing out with a fearful violence, the centre of the old building being now a glowing furnace, whose flames fluttered and roared and leaped, while the wings were rapidly being eaten into by the flames.
“And we can save nothing, Hedley,” said the colonel, sadly.
“Yes, sir, our lives. We can do no more. Pretty well that we got you out, and that the prisoners left the place.”
Fred had risen, and was standing by the general’s side, looking at him wildly.
“Well?” said the latter. “What are you thinking?”
“The wounded, sir—the dead?” said Fred, huskily.
“There were no dead. The wounded were all brought out, I feel sure. My boy, we have done our best. Forrester, are you well enough to move?”