I was seated with Pomp and my father, where we had partaken of the food that had been served out, thinking of my bed at home, and of how dearly I would have liked to be lying there instead of upon the hard ground, when an alarm was given, and the officers, my father amongst them, hurried up to the fort to ascend to the roof, and watch the glow which had suddenly begun to appear in the southwest.
I had followed my father and stood by him, as I heard the General say sharply, in answer to a remark made by some one of those present, upon whose faces the faint glow was reflected—
“Forest fire, sir? No; I am afraid it is—”
“My house, gentlemen,” said my father, calmly. “The attack has begun.”
A dead silence followed my father’s words, and it was almost a minute before the General said gravely—
“Yes, Bruton, the attack has begun, and in a way I dreaded. Well, we must beat it off. I am sorry that your pleasant home should be one of the first to fall a victim to the enemy; but as it was built up, so it can be built up again. There will be plenty of willing hands to help one of our most trusty brothers.”
A murmur of warm assent followed this remark, and then the General spoke again.
“Is Mr Winters here?” he said.
“Yes, General.”
“What have you to say, sir, now?”