The pen may describe, but it cannot convey a just idea of the thrilling cheers that greeted the rescued woman as she was received at the bottom of the escape, or the shouts of applause and congratulation that greeted Harry Thorogood as he emerged from the same, burnt, bleeding, scraped, scarred, and blackened, but not seriously injured, and with a pleasant smile upon his dirty face.
Chapter Five.
We turn now to a battlefield, but we won’t affect to believe that the reader does not know who is one of the chief heroes of that field.
Robert Thorogood is his name. Bob does not look very heroic, however, when we introduce him, for he is sound asleep with his mouth open, his legs sprawling, his eyes tight shut, his bed the ground, his pillow the root of a tree, and his curtains the branches thereof. The only warlike point about Bob is the trumpet-sound that issues from his upturned nose.
Bob’s sentiments about soldiering are queer. His comrades laugh at him a good deal about them, but they never scoff, for Bob is strong and full of fire; besides he is a pattern of promptitude and obedience, so they respect him. Moreover, he is a kindly and jovial man, therefore they are fond of him.
The battlefield of which we write was in the East. The fight had been between the British and Russians. The British had been victorious, and slept on the field.
When the bugles sounded the next morning they stopped the nasal trumpets everywhere, and Corporal Robert Thorogood was the first man of all the host to “fall in”—which he did by himself. But he was not long alone; others quickly joined him.
The companies were soon numbered, proved, formed into column, and marched off. Then there was a short halt for breakfast.