“Because, because,” sobbed Sally, “there must be wounded. Oh, the poor, poor fellows!”
Peggy made a violent effort to collect herself.
“Yes,” she said. “Thee is right, Sally. We must go back.”
Soon they regained a degree of composure, and then they turned back. When again they came into the village, or rather the place where the village had been, the enemy had gone, but the destruction was complete. Not a dwelling stood, the salt works, the grist-mills, the lumber mills, even the little boats of the fishermen had been destroyed. Of that busy, lively, little town not a vestige remained. Shudderingly but with the resolution to be of service, if service should be necessary, the two girls made their way to the spot where the blockhouse had stood. As they drew near they saw the form of a woman moving among the bodies of the dead. She limped slightly, and they knew it was Nurse Johnson.
“Friend Nurse! Oh, Friend Nurse!” cried the girls running to her.
“He is not here,” said Nurse Johnson apathetically. “They carried away some prisoners; he must be among them.”
“Then he can be exchanged,” cried Peggy, a gleam of joy irradiating her countenance. “Oh, I’m glad, glad!”
Nurse Johnson smiled wanly.
“I shall know no peace until I find where he is,” she said. “I am glad that you are safe. Why came ye back from the woods? The British have just gone.”