Chapter Thirty Three.
It was the scouts coming back from different directions, with the same report that no enemy was in sight, though they had penetrated in one or two instances right to the forest.
“Isn’t a false alarm, is it, Captain Bruton?” said one of the newer settlers. “Two of us went right to your little plantation.”
“Well?” said my father, eagerly.
“Well, sir, you were not at home, so we did what I hope you approve of—treated ourselves as you in your hospitality would have treated us. We sat down, ate and drank, and after we were refreshed we came back, but we saw no enemy.”
I felt hot and cold with indignation as I listened to this man’s cavalier treatment of my father, and to see that many of those present were ready to join this scout in believing it to be a false alarm.
“I am glad, sir, that you have returned in safety to make your report,” said my father, coldly.
“Oh, come, Winters,” said Colonel Preston, warmly, “if you had seen those boats bristling with arrows you would not think our friend Bruton had been crying wolf.”