But the officer, instead of flying into a rage, took the rifle and laughed. That laugh reminded me more than ever of Randlebury.
“You’re a pretty fellow,” he said. “Is that the manners they teach you at home.”
“I axe yer pardon, colonel, but—”
Here the officer laughed again—and oh! how my heart beat as I heard him. “If I stay here much longer I shall get promoted to general, I suppose,” said he. “Look sharp and tell me the time.”
Patrick, without another word, produced a light. The officer’s face was half turned as he did so, and I could not catch his features, but as he turned impatiently towards the sentinel the light fell full upon it, and with a bound of astonishment I recognised in the swarthy, soldierly officer before me, no other than my oldest and dearest master, Charlie Newcome, of Randlebury.
The strange presentiment, then, was true—I had found him after so long a time! But what if he should not see me? What torment to be so near and yet so far! And how was it likely he would take notice of a common private’s watch, and if he did, how was it likely at this distance of time he would remember poor me? Jim, I know, had told him of the strange way in which I had come into his hands, and would certainly have also told him about losing me. He must, therefore, long ago have given up all thoughts about me, or if he ever remembered me it would be as one dead.
My master took me out and held me up to the light.
“It’ll be about five minutes past ten, your honour, by my watch.”
“Thank you. Good—hullo?”
He had seen me! His eyes were suddenly riveted upon me, and he seemed glued to the spot where he stood.