“No, father; I have escaped.”
“But the Indians; you have seen them?”
“Yes,” I said; and in the midst of a breathless silence, Morgan and I told of our terrible adventures that day.
Chapter Forty.
“I am wrong, Bruton,” said Colonel Preston, as I finished my narrative, and the last question had been answered—“quite wrong, gentlemen all. I was longing to get back to my comfortable home. Come along. I suppose we may have a fresh visit at any time.”
The meeting broke up, and my father led me back to our quarters.
“I ought not to have let you go,” he said. “The risk was too great, but I was influenced by the general opinion. Ah!” he continued, as he saw Hannibal standing by our rough tent, “why, my good fellow, you are wounded.”
He laid his hand upon the black’s arm, and said something in a low voice, but I could not catch his words. I saw Hannibal’s eyes brighten, though, and a look of pleasure in his face as he suffered himself to be led to the temporary hospital; and I followed, to find our Sarah sitting up and ready to welcome me with a few sharp snappish words, after her fashion. I have often laughed since at the way in which she showed her affection for me; for that she was fond of me she often proved.