This time he took from his body the large, loose coat which the treacherous rebel had worn, and picked up the felt hat, adorned with a black feather, which had dropped from his head.
“He is killed,” said Maud, who was beginning to recover her self-possession.
“Perhaps he is; but that is his fault, not mine,” replied Somers, as he led the way out of the door, followed by the regular. “If either of you attempt to follow us, or leave the house within half an hour, it will cost you your lives,” he added, addressing Maud and the wounded soldier.
“May I not send for a surgeon?” asked she, with a meekness which ill comported with her former imperious manner.
“No.”
“But the major will die.”
“I can’t help it.”
“I will not say anything about you, if you will allow me to send for assistance.”
“Half an hour will make no difference to him,” answered Somers, as he left the house. “Come with me,” added he to the regular, when they reached the open air.
He led the way to the rear of the house, where there were a number of sheds, and other out-buildings, used for various farm purposes. One of these he entered, followed by the regular, who seemed to repose unlimited confidence in the tact and ability of his young companion.