“He—will—not!”—slowly and distinctly.
“And his fate?”
“An ignominious death—probably! It all depends upon what a court-martial may do.”
And General Harrison’s thin lips were firmly drawn; his brows, lowering.
Douglas again bowed, and quickly withdrew. On reaching the open air, he took a deep breath and, lifting his eyes to the clouded heavens, moved his lips as though in prayer. Then, at a brisk pace, he set out toward the blockhouse where Bradford was confined. As he passed along, he observed a number of children playing in front of a large tent.
“I must call upon Amy, first,” he thought; “she may be needing something.”
Gently pushing aside the children who crowded the doorway, he entered the tent. Several families were quartered within. Bedding and cooking utensils were scattered about promiscuously. Near the entrance sat a plethoric matron industriously knitting. She looked up at Douglas’s unannounced entrance and, chuckling asthmatically, remarked by way of greeting:
“Come in.—But I don’t see how you got through the swarm o’ young’uns. As the Britishers has quit the’r shootin’, we thought it ’ld be no harm to let the little things go out an’ play. They was pinin’ fer fresh air, you know. Say!—how long do you think it’ll be ’fore we can go back to our cabins?”
“I have no idea,” Ross replied, pausing momentarily.