We went all round and were on the way to the hut where the blacks slept, when I suddenly noticed that Pomp was not with us, and I drew Morgan’s attention to the fact.
“He was here just now, because I saw him stoop down and pick up something to throw at a bird.”
“No, no: don’t shout,” I said. “I dare say he’ll be here directly, and one don’t know how near the enemy may be.”
But Hannibal did not seem satisfied, and he began looking round the garden and peering about close up to the trees in search of the boy, though without success.
I had taken little notice of this, for I had been talking in a low voice to Morgan about the garden, and whether it was worth while to do anything, seeing that beyond a little weeding nothing hardly was required.
“I thought the fences would all be down, and the place trampled, and that I should have to cut rails and stakes to save the place from desolation.”
So said Morgan, and I agreed that as far as the garden was concerned we had met with a pleasant surprise.
“We’ll have a good meal now,” I said. “Let’s sit down under the big cypress,” and I pointed to the great tree which had proved so good a friend during the flood, and unslinging the bag which he had been carrying, Morgan led the way toward the resting-place.
“Why, Hannibal’s gone now,” I said, looking round wonderingly. “Oh, I know,” I added, laughing; “he heard me say we would have something to eat, and he has gone to look for Pomp.”
We were soon comfortably seated with the food spread before us, and as I cut some of the bread and salt pork we had brought, I said—