"That she is as good a child, Mistress Musgrove, as any honest parent mought wish for. She got some sort of inkling of what was contrived; and so she appeared to Major Butler in a dream—or her ghost."
"Mercy on us! the child has not been hurt?" cried the mother.
"Ondoubtedly not, ma'am," said Robinson; "but it is as true as you are there, she gave us, somehow or other, a warning that there was harm in the wind; and we took her advice, but it didn't do."
"I wish the child were home," said Musgrove. "Christopher, at daylight, boy, saddle a horse and be off to Adair's for Mary."
The nephew promised to do the errand.
"Come, Mr. Robinson, draw near the table and eat something."
"With right good heart," replied Horse Shoe; "but it's a kind of camp rule with me, before I taste food—no matter where—just to look after Captain Peter Clinch; that's my horse, friend Musgrove. So, by your leave, I'll just go take a peep to see that the Captain is sarved. A good beast is a sort of right arm in scrapish times; and as God ha'n't given them the gift of speech, we must speak for them."
"Christopher shall save you the trouble," replied Musgrove.
"A good horse never loses anything by the eye of his master," said Horse Shoe; "so, Christopher, I'll go with you."
In a short time the sergeant returned into the house, and took his seat at the table, where he fell to, at what was set before him, with a laudable dispatch.