Seating myself by the fire in a state of mind bordering on despair, I buried my face in my hands, and endeavoured to collect myself, and consider what, under the circumstances, should be now done.
Chapter Twenty One.
Arrangements for pursuing the enemy, and sudden change of plans.
“You seem to be taking it easy, old boy,” said a voice close to my elbow.
I started, and looked up hastily.
“Ah! Peterkin. You there?”
“Ay; and may I not reply, with some surprise, you here?”
“Truly you may,—but what could I do? The men ran away from me, whether I would or no; and you are aware I could not make myself understood, not being able to— But where is Jack?”