So all waited with Burn-the-wind for some time and then all went home together, after bidding the village smith a kindly good-night.
Uncle Ben was just coming out of his gate as they passed, with Cockie on his shoulder, and the bird screamed with delight when she saw the party.
“Oh, Uncle Ben,” cried Lizzie, “you’re coming to the Castle, aren’t you?”
“Yes, my dear, that’s where old Ben is bent upon going for a game of chess and a long clay pipe.”
The little party were all assembled to-night around the low fire, which was burning and spluttering away most cheerfully. Even Chammy was squatting on a branch of his tree by the ingle-nook, holding up first one hand and then another to the welcome blaze.
“Shall I begin just where I left off, Cracker?” said Shireen.
“Oh, do!” cried Cracker. “I want to hear about more fur flying, you bet.”
Well, then, said Shireen, we left a sufficiently large army to guard the entrenched camp at Bushire, and went on with quite a small, and very daring fleet, to attack the large army of the Shah, in the town of Mohammerah.
I felt somewhat sad after we had reached the fortified town we were going to attack, to find that I was not to be taken on shore, and so you see, Cracker, I can give no personal narrative of the battle, because I was not in the thick of it, and didn’t actually see the fur flying.
But all I saw on the morning of the twentieth of March impressed me very much. Where do you think I went for safety, Warlock?