"Holloa! you captain-mon out yonder!" bawled one o' them, his great voice coming to me through his hollowed hand.
Leading my horse I walked toward them as in a fiery nightmare, and the sun but a vast and dancing blaze in my burning eyes. One of the riflemen leaped ashore:
"Is anny wan alive in this place?" he began loudly; then: "Jasus! It's Captain Drogue. F'r the love o' God, asthore! Are they all dead entirely in Caughnawaga, savin' yourself, sorr, an' the Dominie's wife an' childer, an' the yellow-haired lass o' Douw Fonda——"
I caught him by the rifle-cape. My clutch shook him; and I was shaking, too, so I could not pronounce clearly:
"Where is Penelope Grant?" I stammered. "Where did you see her, Tim Murphy?"
"Who's that?" he demanded, striving to loosen my grip. "Ah, the poor lad, he's crazy! Lave me loose, avie! Is it the yellow-haired lass ye ask for?"
"Yes—where is she?"
"God be good to you, Jack Drogue, she's on the hill yonder with Mrs. Romeyn an' the two childer!—--" He took my arm, turned me partly around, and pointed:
"D'ye mind the pine? The big wan, I mean, betchune the two ellums? 'Twas an hour since that we seen her foreninst the pine-tree yonder, an' the Romeyn childer hidin' their faces in her skirt——"
I swung my horse and flung myself across the saddle.