I ran off, followed by Pomp, and soon found Colonel Preston and gave him my father’s message, as he was leading some more men to where the firing was fiercest.
“Yes, yes, of course,” he said, angrily. “It is not likely it has been forgotten.”
I drew back at his words, and felt that I should like the General to have heard my father’s message; and just then I came upon Morgan running, loaded with ammunition, to the other side.
“Where is the General?” I asked.
“Over here, lad, where I’m going. Don’t stop me.”
But I did stop him to tell him my father’s words.
“Of course it is!” replied Morgan, as sharply as the Colonel had spoken. And I have often thought about it since—that such a slip should have been made by two gentlemen, both of whom had had great experience in military matters. But, of course, in the excitement of the double advance, and with so few men at their call, it was easy to think of nothing but repelling that attack, the more especially as there were men posted all round.
My answers were so unsatisfactory for taking back to where my father was, that I determined to go over to the part in question, and see how it was for myself.
As I hurried on, my course lay round the heap of ashes and burnt wood which had formed the block-house; and curiously weird it all seemed to be, with the flashes and heavy reports of the pieces to right, and left, mingled with the savage yells of the attacking Indians, who, as far as I could tell, seemed to be striving to beat back our men from the fence.
It was darker than ever as I got round the remains of the fort, and knowing that the ground there was free from impediment, I was in the act of breaking into a trot, when there was a curious stifled sound in front—a noise as of an axe falling on wood; and my companion sprang at me and dragged me back.