“O, nothing—a doldrum of Bruce’s,” cried Bart. “‘He’s all right now.”
“All right!” said Bruce, lifting up his pale face, and nodding.
“You hurry up, boys,” said Bart. “Get a horse at the bridge, and drive home.”
Upon this the boys left, and went to the bridge. After about a quarter of an hour, Bruce felt able to start. They ascended the bank slowly; and after reaching the dike land, they went across in a straight line for the Academy. They walked slowly at first, but Bruce regained his strength more and more at every step.
At length they reached the gateway of the Academy grounds. Wet to the skin, handkerchiefs round their heads, with their clothes ragged, and plastered with mud from head to foot, so that hardly any of the original color was visible, these two forlorn figures attracted universal attention; and soon all the small boys were around them cheering, and shouting, and asking about the schooner.
Out came Mr. Long, who had arrived the previous evening without accident.
Out came Dr. Porter, astonishment in his face.
Out came every inhabitant of the Academy and its precincts, all making inquiries.
And, last of all, out came Solomon, with an enormous white collar standing up above his ears, and,—
“O, de gracious! O, de sakes alive, now! What’s dis dat dis ole nigga does see! You gwine away whar glory takes you, an’ back agin to be de light of an ole cuss’s life! An’ whar’s all de rest ob all dem bressed chil’en? O, dis de-lightful day an’ hour! An’ you wet as ebber wet kin be by failin’ in de briny wave! Bress dis old nigga’s heart! but whar you git all dat mud from? An’ me hopin’ an’ prayin’ fur dis glorious time! What’s become ob all de Wenebble Breddren? Heah comes de Wenebble Patrick, an’ de Wenebble Wodden, wid de ‘Gran’ Panjydanderum in de shinin’ train! O, dis day an’ hour!”