“Shall we be able to stay here, father?” said Norman, on their way back through the darkness.
“Stay, boy? Yes. Only let them give us a few days or weeks’ respite, and I do not care. But look here, boy, we have gone too far to retreat. We must hold the place now. It is too good to give up meekly at a scare from a gang of savages. Come, Norman, you must be a man.”
“I was not thinking of myself, father, but about mamma and the girls.”
The captain drew a sharp, hissing breath.
“And I was too,” he said in a low voice. “But come, let’s set them at rest for the night.”
Five minutes later Norman felt two soft hands seize his, and hold him in the darkness, as a passionate voice whispered in his ear: “Oh, Norman, my boy—my boy!”
Then there was a long silent watch to keep, and there was only one who slept in camp that night—to wit, Shanter. And Rifle said merrily, that the black slept loud enough for ten.