“You say the boy saw them?”
“Yes, coming on. We were with one of the sentries.”
“But he has not fired. I should have heard.”
“No, father, he would not believe Pomp could see them.”
“Pomp could see um—big lots,” said the boy.
“That is enough,” said my father. “Tell the bugler—no; we will not show them that we know,” he said. “Come with me.”
We followed him to where the General was lying on a blanket or two in the midst of his possessions, and he was on his feet in an instant giving his orders, which were conveyed here and there to the various officers, from whence they spread to the men so rapidly and silently that in a few minutes, almost without a sound, a hundred well-armed defenders of the fort were on their way to the fence in twenty little squads, each of which reinforced the sentries, and stood waiting for the attack.
So silent and unchanged was everything when I played the part of guide, and led my father and the General to where we had been watching, that my heart sank, and I felt guilty of raising a false alarm. Then I half shrank away as I heard the General question the sentry, and he replied that he had neither seen nor heard anything. Just then my father turned to me.
“Where’s the boy?”
“Here, Pomp,” I whispered; but I looked round in vain, and after a few minutes’ search I was fain to confess that he had gone.