'For the love of God,' said the wounded man, as he heard Waverley's step, 'give me a single drop of water!'
'You shall have it,' answered Waverley, at the same time raising him in his arms, bearing him to the door of the hut, and giving him some drink from his flask.
'I should know that voice,' said the man; but, looking on Waverley's dress with a bewildered look,—'no, this is not the young squire!'
This was the common phrase by which Edward was distinguished on the estate of Waverley-Honour, and the sound now thrilled to his heart with the thousand recollections which the well-known accents of his native country had already contributed to awaken. 'Houghton!' he said, gazing on the ghastly features which death was fast disfiguring, 'can this be you?'
'I never thought to hear an English voice again,' said the wounded man; 'they left me to live or die here as I could, when they found I would say nothing about the strength of the regiment. But, oh, squire! how could you stay from us so long, and let us be tempted by that fiend of the pit, Ruffin?—we should have followed you through flood and fire, to be sure.'
'Ruffin! I assure you, Houghton, you have been vilely imposed upon.'
'I often thought so,' said Houghton, 'though they showed us your very seal; and so Timms was shot, and I was reduced to the ranks.'
'Do not exhaust your strength in speaking,' said Edward; 'I will get you a surgeon presently.'
He saw Mac-Ivor approaching, who was now returning from head-quarters, where he had attended a council of war, and hastened to meet him. 'Brave news!' shouted the Chief; 'we shall be at it in less than two hours. The Prince has put himself at the head of the advance, and as he drew his sword, called out, "My friends, I have thrown away the scabbard." Come, Waverley, we move instantly.'
'A moment,—a moment; this poor prisoner is dying where shall I find a surgeon?'