“It was bad enough after that dreadful flood. What will it be now? And so much pride as I took in it, and such a home as it had become. And then, my dear, for you to go and think that I should keep those two waiting while I got together things of my own.”
“Well, you know you did,” I said, laughing.
“For shame, Master George! That box has got everything in that I knew you would like to save.”
“Oh, Sarah!”
“And in that bundle is all the best of the linen, and right in the middle, your poor dear father’s uniform.”
I did not know which to do—to laugh at the poor woman for her kindly but mistaken thoughts, or to feel affected, so I did neither, but pressed her hand gently, told her she must sleep, and rose to go; but she clung to my hand.
“You’ll take care, and not go into danger,” she said. “You have been hurt enough.”
“I’ll try not,” I said, as she still clung to my hand, looking wistfully at me. I seemed to understand what she meant, stooped over and kissed her, and made her cry.
“Poor old nurse!” I said to myself as I limped out, and across the enclosure, where the people were gathered in knots discussing the possibility of an attack. In one part all the blacks were together—the women and the younger boys; in another part the ladies with their children; while on the rough platforms erected at the corners of the great palisade sentries were stationed, keeping a vigilant look-out; and I now saw that to every white man there were two armed blacks, and I could not help thinking that we should all be massacred if the blacks sided with the savages against those who had made them their slaves.
At one of these corners I saw that our Hannibal was placed, his great bulk and height making him stand out prominently from his companions; and feebly enough, and with no little pain, I went towards him, thinking very little of my injury in my boyish excitement, though had I been older, and more given to thought, I suppose I should have lain up at once in the temporary hospital.