“Perhaps you have a son among the soldiers,” said his companion, with a milder demeanor,[138] and an air of kindness; “if so, tell me his name and regiment, and I will take you to him.”
The old man shook his head, and answered:
“No; I am alone in the world!”
“You should have added, Captain Dunwoodie,” cried his careless comrade, “if you could find either; for nearly half our army has marched down the road, and may be, by this time, under the walls of Fort George,[139] for anything that we know to the contrary.”
The old man stopped suddenly, and looked earnestly from one of his companions to the other; the action being observed by the soldiers, they paused also.
“Did I hear right?” the stranger uttered, raising his hand to screen his eyes from the rays of the setting sun. “What did he call you?”
“My name is Wharton Dunwoodie,” replied the youth, smiling.
The stranger motioned silently for him to remove his hat, which the youth did accordingly, and his fair hair blew aside like curls of silk, and opened the whole of his ingenuous countenance to the inspection of the other.
“’Tis like our native land!” exclaimed the old man with vehemence; “improving with time. God has blessed both.”