“Since when do we take orders from you, Garlotz?” demanded the Captain, with a sneer.
“Yere beginnin’ right now, you yella bellied stick!” And Ben seized his arm and gave it such a wrench that the officer had to follow. “Now, ya come along er I’ll brain ya!”
It was just after their departure that we showed up and heard the news of them. The General fumed and fretted and talked of going out after them, but before we could get anyone who knew the section to go with us, Chilblaines came running in, one cheek bloody and an eye starting to swell shut. He rushed up to the General and cried out, “Garlotz has gone mad! Stark staring mad!... We were out there looking for you ... he rushed at me and tried to choke me to death!”
“Where is he?” demanded the old man.
“Out there ... he collapsed or I’d be dead now.”
“Dammit, man!” exclaimed the General, shaking him roughly. “He must be found! Where were you when this happened?”
But Chilblaines could only tell us in a general way where he had been. The General grabbed the first stretcher-bearer that passed and we started off, but when we had gone a few steps, I turned to him and said, “You don’t need to come, sir. We can find him.”
Before he could answer, something touched his hand and he looked down to find Esky there, looking up at us with worried eyes and without wagging his tail.
“You’d better not come, sir,” said the man with the stretcher. “We’ll follow the dog.”
So the General went back, and we went on, letting Esky’s trotting lead show us the way.