“They will try and fire that?” said the colonel, in a whisper.
“Yes. We have a deadly foe to combat, and one full of cunning.”
“But we must never let him and his fire-fiends approach the place,—we must make an outer palisade.”
“Of brave men?” said my father. “Yes; I had thought of that; but the danger cannot be stopped that way. They will fire the place without coming close.”
“How?” cried the colonel.
“With winged messengers,” said my father; and I felt what he was going to say before he spoke.
“Fiery arrows? I see what you mean. Pray heaven they may not think of such a hideous plan. But if they do, Bruton, we are Englishmen, and know how to die.”
“Yes,” said my father, sadly. “If the worst comes to the worst, we know how to die. Well, there will be no attack to-night,” he continued; and he turned round and seemed to realise the fact that I was there, having forgotten my presence in the earnestness of his conversation with the colonel.
“Ah, George,” he said, “I did not think that you were there to hear what I said. Did you catch it?”
“Yes, father,” I said in a hoarse voice.