Chapter Forty Five.
Clearing Up.
“How did I manage to come to your help?” cried Captain Lawton, as he stood with his fellow countrymen in a group; and when his men had ceased raising the echoes again and again with their exultant cheers, “Why, of course it was through your messenger, who galloped hot foot all the way, changing ponies as they broke down. Cheerful looking chap that, but how he can ride! Ah, here he comes.”
For Dunn Brown came into sight, walking towards them slowly, the four ponies following him like dogs.
He came up very quietly, and as those whom he had rescued advanced to meet him, full of expressions of gratitude, there was one who could not speak the words he wished to say. They were something that he had at heart concerning calling Dunn Brown a coward; but he never knew, and for his part, when he had to speak he only looked dismally at those who surrounded him and said, “So—” Then he stopped short to give a gulp, and added, “glad;” but it sounded like a sigh.
He literally sneaked away as soon as he could, to shake hands with Dan and Buck Denham. This however he did with so much energy than Dan yelled and Buck roared, “Murder!”
“Don’t!” he cried. “My arms are both coming off. But I say, Brownie, you are the finest foreloper I ever had in my life, and I never expected to see you again. Here, Mr Mark, sir,” he cried, as he turned his back suddenly upon the gaunt self-appointed messenger who had saved all their lives, “just take me away somewhere, or I shall break down and blubber like a great girl. Quick, sir, before the soldiers see.” Then quickly, and his big voice raised the echoes again from all around—“Have any of you seen anything of my teams—two span, forty-six oxen?”
He was answered by a deep bellowing from out of sight somewhere in the depths of the ruins.
“Hooroar!” cried Buck. “The poor beggars know me, and the niggers haven’t ate them all.”