Chapter Twenty Three.
“He has gone.”
But though a curious, morbid fascination attracted the boy to the loophole, there were no horrors to see. Silently, and unknown to the defenders of the happy little English home, the blacks had carried away their dead and wounded, and all outside looked so beautiful and peaceful, that the events of the past night seemed like a dream.
On all sides of the low, wooden house, eager eyes were scanning the wooded patches, trees, and ridges, but there was no sign of an enemy. The only significant thing visible was that the rails of the great paddock had been taken down in one place, and the horses and cattle were out and about grazing.
“I can see no sign of them,” said the captain, suddenly closing his glass; the others, after making their own inspection from the several loopholes left for defence, now waiting to hear the captain’s announcement after using his telescope. “No, I can see no sign of them.—Here, Tam.”
The black came to his side, gave himself a writhe, and said with a grin, “Baal mine ride horse fellow lass night, Marmi.”
“No, no,” said the captain, smiling; “but look here; black fellow gone along.”
“All hide um myall scrub,” said Shanter, quietly.
“No, no, gone—gone,” said the captain. “Plenty run away.”