“Draw—swords!” rang out in answer, and there was the peculiar grating rattle of sabres being drawn from steel scabbards.
“Who is that? Sergeant Craig?” cried Brace.
“Captain!” shouted a familiar voice. “Thank God, we’ve found you at last!” and a faint cheer rose up.
“Quick! tell me,” cried Brace, as we pressed up to the men—“is it all true?”
“You’ve heard, then, sir?” said the sergeant, with a groan.
“Yes; Denny escaped and reached us.”
“Poor lad! I thought he was one of the goners.”
“How was it?” said Brace, sternly.
“I hardly know, sir. A surprise. Everything was as usual, just at the hottest time, when they were down upon us like a thunder clap. One party made for the officers’ quarters, another for the guard, and shot down the sentries; another made the men fast in their quarters, and before we could grasp it, they had seized the whole place, and we were helpless.”
“But the major—Lieutenant Barton?”