The great black looked fiercely round, but smiled sadly as Morgan held out his hand and said—
“Thank you, old lad.”
“Yes! Thank you, Hannibal, for saving my life,” I whispered.
“Mass’ George save Han’s life,” was the reply in deep tones. Then the smile passed from the great fellow’s face, and a terrible expression came over it again as his eyes rolled round, and he said in a deep, low, muttering voice—
“Come—quick find Pomp.”
“And I was just going to say, let’s make a run now for the boat,” said Morgan. “But we can’t leave the boy, Master George.”
“No,” I said. “Here, take your gun, Han.”
I passed the firelock to him, and followed his gaze as he glared round among the trees from behind whose trunks I expected to see the enemy peering, ready to take revenge for the death of their companions. But there was no one near as far as I could see, and we rose cautiously to get a better view round through the clustering boughs whose heavy foliage cut off the light, so that we were gazing down glorious vistas that ended far away in the deepest shade.
“Might hide an army there, and no one could see ’em,” muttered Morgan.
“Find Pomp?” said Hannibal, looking at me inquiringly.