"Now I know where I am," he said. "I don't believe it is possible to get the horse any farther. We will wait here for our friends. Mr. Villars, if you will dismount, we will try to get you up on the bank."
"I pity you, my children," said the old man. "You should never have encumbered yourselves with such a burden as I am. I can neither fight nor run. Is it sunrise yet?"
"It is sunrise, and a beautiful morning! The fresh rays come to us here, sifted through the dewy trees. Sit down on this rock. Find the luncheon, Carl. Ah, Carl!"—Penn regarded the boy affectionately,—"I am glad to have you with me again, but I can't forget that you are a rebel! and a deserter!"
"I a deserter? you mishtake," said Carl. "I am a prisoner."
"You disobeyed me, Carl! I told you not to enlist. You did wrong."
"Now shust listen," said Carl, "and I vill tell you. I did right. Cause vy. You are alive and vell now, ain't you?"
Penn smilingly admitted the fact.
"And that is petter as being hung?"
"I am not so very certain of that, Carl!"
"Vell, I am certain for you. Hanging ish no goot. Hunderts of vellers that don't like the rebels no more as you do, wolunteer rather than to be hung. Shows their goot sense."