Chapter Six.
“You miserable, ugly, lazy nigger, take that, and that, and that.”
There was the sound of blows at each that, and then a volley of abuse as I neared the officers’ quarters, and every word and blow came through the open windows.
“Confound you! do you think I keep you to do nothing but sleep? I’ll have my horses look better than any one else’s, and they look worse,” came clearly; and there were more blows, while a group of white-clothed syces, two of whom held horses, looked at one another, and I saw that their faces wore a troubled aspect, as they whispered as soon as the English sentry on guard by the gateway turned his back to march steadily in the shade to the end of his beat, but as soon as he faced round they stood like bronze statues.
Then came more blows, and it was evident to me that the trouble, or whatever it might be, was taking place in the quarters to which I had been directed; but I wanted to make sure, and I turned out of my way to meet the sentry, who halted and saluted as I drew near.
“Which are Lieutenant Barton’s quarters?” I said.
“Straight in front, sir. Through that door where the horses stand.”
“Is there something the matter?”