“Escape to the settlement if we can get safely away.”
“But—”
I stopped short.
“Well?” he said.
“I was thinking about the house and garden, the furniture and books, and all our treasures.”
“Doomed, I’m afraid, George,” he said with a sigh. “We must think about saving our lives. We can build up the house again.”
“Build it up again, father?”
“Yes, if it is burnt, and replace our books; but we cannot restore life, my boy. Besides, all these things that we shall lose are not worth grieving over. There, I think we have waited long enough now to give them time, and we are near the landing-place. Pull steadily now, boy, right for the posts.”
Pomp obeyed, and the boat glided on, swept round a wooded point, and the landing-place with its overhanging trees was in sight.
“Are they there?” said my father, sharply.