"I must report this night's work forthwith," said Cowlson, rising; "but I had almost as lief have lost my scalp as my musket."
The disconsolate soldier accordingly wended on his way, to tell the best story he could to save himself from blame; while Bars, after relocking his empty prison, and barring his door, snuggled himself alongside his partner to busy his rather obtuse brain with schemes of a like nature on his own behalf.
CHAPTER XXXII.
"This monument shall utter of the past
It hath no tongue; and yet Demosthenes,
Or Roman Tully, never stirred the breasts
Of gaping citizens with subtler speech,
Than shall this pile of stones the wayfarers.
Who pass this way."
Anonymous.