"Thinking, George?" said my father. I told him I had been watching the
sunset. Shame kept me from saying more.
"Ah, yes," he said, sadly. "It was very glorious. What a pity that the
beautiful land over which such a sun shines should be spoiled by
bloodshed!"
"Do you think the Indians will come to-night?" I said, a little
huskily.
He was silent for a few moments, and stood gazing in my face.
"Afraid?" he said, with a smile.
"Yes, father," I said, frankly. "It makes me feel afraid. But when all
the fighting and excitement is going on I don't feel to mind it half so
much."
"That is human nature, my boy," he said, smiling. "No doubt there are
men who never know what fear is, but they must be very rare. I have
known very few."
"But you, father?" I said, excitedly. "You never knew what it was to
be afraid?"
He laughed as he pressed my shoulder with his hand.
"Always, my boy, when I am going to encounter danger, and from the
General downward, I think I may say we all feel fear. It is no disgrace
to a brave man to shrink from that which he has to encounter. Why, my
experience teaches me that those men who think and feel in this way do
the bravest deeds."
"Then I needn't be ashamed of feeling a little alarm--I mean being a bit
of a coward now, father?"
"No," he said, with a peculiar smile. "But as it is highly probable
that we shall be attacked to-night, it would be as well to be careful.
The women and children are all in the block-house now; the men will be
strongly posted at the gates and palisade, while the reserves will be in
front of the block-house, in our rough outer works, ready to go to any
menaced point or to cover their comrades if they have to retreat, and we
are compelled to take to the block-house as a last resource.--There: I
must go. You are tired, boy. You have had a long and perilous day.
I'll excuse you from everything to-night, and you had better get to the
block-house and have a good night's rest."
"Oh, don't say that, father," I cried, dolefully. "Go and be shut up
there with the women and children!"
"What do you wish to do, then?" he said, still smiling in a peculiar
way.
"Be about here, and go round to the different sentries."
"With arrows flying, perhaps."
"But it will be dark, and they are not likely to hit," I said.
"Besides, I might be useful fetching ammunition and helping to load."
"You can stay about," he said, clapping both hands on my shoulders, and
laughing. "I don't think you need be ashamed of your cowardice, my
boy."
He walked away, leaving me feeling puzzled, for I hardly knew what he
meant, whether he was joking me or laughing at me for what I said. But
it was all put out of my head directly by a little bustle at the gate,
where the men who had been scouting were beginning to return, so as to
be well in shelter before it grew dark; and as I followed them up, the
report they made to the officers soon reached my ears.
It was very brief: they had seen no Indians, but had followed the track
of those who had fetched away the bodies of their dead, and traced them
to a portion of the forest some six miles away, when, not feeling it
wise to follow farther, they had come straight across country home.
There was neither moon nor star that night, as, with every light
carefully extinguished in camp, patient watch was kept, and every eye
fixed from three of the sides upon the edge of the forest beyond the
plantations. So still was everything that, save when a faint whisper
rose when an officer went round, the place might have been unoccupied.
But the hours glided by with nothing to occasion the slightest alarm, as
we all listened to the faint sounds which came from distant forest and
swamp. So still was it that even the splash of some great fish in the
river reached our ears as we leaned over the great fence by the gateway.
I had been round the enclosure with my father twice in the course of the
evening, for though tired I was too much excited to sleep. Then I had
been and had a chat with our Sarah, in the hospital-room, and after that
gone to the little side shelter by our tent, where Hannibal and Pomp
were both sleeping as peaceably as if there were no danger in the air.
As I stood looking down at them, it was with something like a feeling of
envy, for I was terribly heavy, and would gladly have lain down to
sleep, but it was impossible then; and as I left them and crossed the
great enclosure, I heard a low whispered conversation going on just in
front, and as I stopped short a hand caught mine, and said sternly--
"Who is this? Oh, it's you, young Bruton. No alarm, is there?"
It was Colonel Preston who spoke, and after telling him that all seemed
quiet I passed on, and in an uneasy way went from sentry to sentry to
say a word or two to each, as I inquired whether my father had been by.
He had not, so I went on till I came to the corner of the enclosure
farthest from the forest, where I could dimly see the man on duty
straining himself over the great fence; and so occupied was he in gazing
into the distance that he did not notice my presence till I spoke.
"You, Master George?"
"You, Morgan?"
"Why, I thought you'd ha' been asleep."
"No; I could not go," I said. "But why were you looking out there?"
"I don't know, my lad," he whispered. "This sort of work puts one all
on the screw and fidget. I do nothing else but fancy all sorts of
things, and keep finding out I'm wrong."
"But the Indians are not likely to come this way," I said. "It is too
far from the forest."
"Then the more likely, my lad. But speak lower. Now look straight out
there, and try if you can see anything."