“That I beg Captain Bruton’s pardon, sir; and that I will be one of the first to help restore his house, if it please God I live through the trouble that is to come.”
“Thank you, Mr Winters,” said my father, quietly. “If we are staunch to each other I have no fear for the result.”
“Look—look!” came in a low murmur, and my heart sank, for it seemed so piteous to see the bright glare rising over the forest, as the poor house over which so much pains had been taken seemed, in spite of the distance, to be sending up wreath after wreath of golden smoke, while for a short time there was a ruddy light spreading high up into the sky.
But it all faded out as rapidly as it had arisen, and I went down into the enclosure, to stumble soon after upon Morgan, who said grimly—
“Didn’t think after that soaking, look you, she would have burnt out so quick, Master George.”
“Oh, don’t talk about it, Morgan,” I said. “There, I must lie down now; I am too weak and tired to stand.”
“Come this way then, my lad, and lean on me,” he said gently; and he helped me to where I could see something white lying on the ground.
It was the great bundle Sarah had made, and close by it lay Pomp fast asleep.
“Burned so quickly after the soaking it had had,” seemed to be buzzing in my brain, and the ruddy glow flashed up before my eyes once more; but only in imagination, for I believe that as my head touched that great soft bundle, regardless of danger from tomahawk or arrow, I went off fast asleep, and slept on hour after hour, nor opened my eyes again till it was broad day.