They could not contrive either to fire at our party, on account of the wall in front, and every attempt at an entrance was thwarted; but we all knew that it was only a question of time, for it was impossible for man to do more.
There seemed now to be a lull, and only a buzzing of voices above us, mingled with a groan and a dying cry now and then, when I quite forget my pain once more on hearing poor Harry Lant, who had for some time been quite off his head, and raving, commence talking in a quiet sort of way.
“Where’s Ike Smith?” he said. “It’s all dark here; and I want to say good-bye to him.”
I was kneeling by his side the next minute, holding his hand.
“God bless you, Ike,” he said; “and God bless her. I’m going, old mate; kiss her for me, and tell her that if she hadn’t been made for you, I could have loved her very dearly.”
What could I do or say, when the next minute Lizzy was kneeling on his other side, holding his hand?
“God bless you both,” he whispered. “You’ll get out of the trouble after all; and don’t forget me.”
We promised him we would not, as well as we could, for we were both choked with sorrow; and then he said, talking quickly:
“Give poor old Sam Measles my ’bacco-box, Ike, the brass one, and shake hands with him for me; and now I want Mother Bantem.”
She was by his side directly, to lift him gently in her arms, calling him her poor gallant boy, her brave lad, and no end of fond expressions.