“Yes, ober dah,” said Pomp, pointing.
“Can you see them now?”
“No, sah. All gone.”
This was unsatisfactory, but the General seemed to have perfect faith in the boy’s declaration, and a long exciting watch followed.
The Indians’ habits had grown so familiar that every eye and ear was on the strain, and finger upon trigger, as tree, shrub, and grassy clump was expected momentarily to develop into a foe. The secretive nature of these people made our position at times more painful and exciting, as we knew that at any moment they might come close to us in the darkness, and almost before the alarm could be given, dash up to the palisade and begin climbing over.
But the weary hours crept on without any fresh sign, and the opinion began to spread that it was a false alarm, while Pomp was so pressed with questions that he slunk away into the darkness.
I followed him though, just making him out by his light, white cotton clothes, and saw him at last throw himself down on his face; but he started up into a crouching position, ready to bound away as I came up to him.
“No good, Mass’ George,” he said, angrily. “I ’tupid lil nigger, and done know nuff talk. Nebber see no Injum; nebber see nobody. Keep ask say—‘Are you suah?’ ‘Are you suah?’ Pomp going run away and lib in de tree. Nobody b’leeve Pomp.”
“Yes, some one does,” I said, as I sat down beside him in the darkness; and for the first time I noticed that we were close to the tarpaulin and canvas spread over the powder-kegs.
“No. Nobody b’leeve Pomp. Um wish Injum come and kill um.”