Yes, for Annie’s sake he could, and at the mere mention of her name, the dim eye kindled, and the pale cheeks glowed, while the wounded man made another effort to rise. He succeeded this time, and with slow steps the two commenced their retreat. It was a novel sight, that tall, muscular man, towering head and shoulders above the frail boy, upon whom he leaned heavily for support,—the generous Isaac, who would not leave him there alone, even though he knew the danger he was incurring for himself.
“They’ll treat us decent if we’re taken prisoners, won’t they, think?” he asked, as the possibility of such a calamity was suggested to his mind. Not till then had George thought of that. They would not murder a wounded man, he was sure, but they might take him prisoner, and death itself was almost preferable to days of captivity and sickening suspense away from Annie. The very idea roused him into life, and with a superhuman effort, he hastened on, almost outrunning Isaac, until they, too, had reached the friendly woods where Bill had already taken shelter. Just then a loaded wagon passed them, its frightened, excited occupants paying no heed to Isaac’s cry for help, until one whose uniform showed him to be an officer, sprang up, exclaiming:
“The strong must give place to the wounded. I can find my way to Washington better than that bleeding man!” and Tom Carleton seized the reins with a grasp which brought the foaming steeds nearly to their haunches. The vehicle was stopped, and the next instant Tom had leaped upon the ground, spraining his ankle severely, and reeling in his first pain against the astounded Isaac, who cried out, joyfully:
“Oh, Captain Carleton, save Lieutenant Graham, won’t you? We can walk, you and I.”
Tom had not the least suspicion as to whom he was befriending until then, and now, unmindful of his own aching foot, he assisted George to the seat he had vacated, and watched the party without a pang as they drove rapidly away, leaving him alone with Isaac.
“We’ll do the best we can, my boy,” he said, cheerily, as he met the confiding, inquiring look bent upon him by Isaac, who, relieved of his former charge, felt now like leaning for protection and guidance upon Captain Carleton.
Alas, his hopes were short-lived, for a groan just then escaped from Tom’s white lips, wrung out by the agony it cost him to step. Isaac saw him stagger when he sprang to the ground, and comprehending the case at once, he resumed his burden of care, and kneeling before poor Tom, who had sunk upon the grass, he rubbed the swollen limb as tenderly as Rose herself could have done.
“If we could only find some water,” Tom said, scanning the appearance of the woods, and judging at last by indications which seldom failed, that there must be some not very far away. “There where the bushes are,” he said, pointing toward the very spot where Bill lay snoring soundly, and dreaming of robbing Parson Goodwin’s orchard, in company with Hal. “There must be water there, and human beings too, for I hear singing, don’t you?”
Isaac listened till he, too, caught a strain of melody, as sad and low as if it were a funeral dirge some one was trilling there.
“What can it mean?” Tom said. “Lend me your hand, my boy, and I’ll soon find out.”