“Well, sir, I ran along the ramp and climbed up three times before I could get to the store, and then set fire to the fodder; but it was ever so long before I could get it to burn, and then I couldn’t get out.”
“You did that?” cried the Colonel.
“To be sure I did, sir. Wasn’t it right? Oh, I see now; the men thought I went and hid to get out of the light.”
“My dear boy,” cried the Colonel; “of course.”
“Oh,” cried Drummond, “what jolly fools the lads can be! But I say, sir, who’s hurt? and was old Bracy safe?”
A minute later the men cheered even louder than before, as they watched Drummond—a hero now in their midst—place a bag of powder to blow down the burning building and save the place from risk of the fire spreading.
That was soon done. It was a risky task, but bravely set about; and, as the place went up in a rush of flames and sparks, the assault from outside ceased, the enemy drawing off under cover of the mist; and an hour later silence fell upon the horrible scene of carnage, not even a bleat arising from the sheep.
But the fort was safe, the dim morning light showing the British flag, wet and clinging, but still hanging in its place upon the flagstaff; while by that time all save the doubled sentries upon the walls and the suffering wounded lay plunged in a heavy sleep wherever a place could be found roomy enough for the poor fellows’ aching limbs.