“Yes, my faithful Rob,” he said, patting the animal’s head, “I will not leave you behind this time. You have already saved my life, and will, I know, keep a careful watch over my solitary camp at night.”
Having bade us all farewell, and wrung his cousin’s hand for the last time, Rochford, followed by Rob, hastened from the fort, and was soon lost to sight among the trees.
We remained for the next two days, in the hope of receiving information from the commandant of Fort King; but neither of the two trusty scouts who had been despatched thither returned. At last our provisions had come so nearly to an end that Captain Norton considered, unless we could obtain a fresh supply, it would be necessary to proceed there at once. Had Spotted Wolf not deserted us, we might have sent out a hunting party in the neighbourhood; but as it was thought that he would to a certainty give information to our enemies, and that they would in all probability return and cut off any small party outside the fort, arrangements were made for recommencing the march. Our chief difficulty in a forced march, such as we intended to make, was to convey the wounded man, the sole survivor of the massacred party we had discovered. A strong litter had been prepared, and several men had volunteered to carry him. He had, however, made no progress towards recovery, and the evening before we were to start he was evidently worse.
Tim, who had assisted my father in doctoring him, entered the little room appropriated to the officers. “I am afraid, sir, that Mike Dillon is going to slip through our fingers after all,” he said. “He has asked to see you and the captain, but I fear, by the time you get to him, he’ll have little power to say anything.”
On receiving this summons, we hastened to the hut, where, on a rough pallet, lay the wounded trooper. His eyes turned towards us as we entered.
“The Indians have done for me, gentlemen; and I want to thank you for the care you have taken of a poor fellow,” he gasped out. “If any of you get back, and ever visit Philadelphia, I would ask you as a favour to visit my poor mother, Widow Dillon, and tell her how I came to my end. Give her my love, and say I died in the hope that she would forgive me for the trouble I had caused her.” His words grew fainter as he spoke.
Captain Norton promised that he would carry out his request; and in a few minutes after the young soldier breathed his last.
We buried him that night, just outside the fort, not far from where its former defenders lay. We none of us could tell how soon we might share his fate. Captain Norton, well aware of the dangers to which we should be exposed, charged the scouts to keep a vigilant look-out, so as to avoid being led into an ambush, or surprised in any other way.
Next morning, no messenger having arrived from Fort King, or from any other direction, we commenced our march.