ANY PORT IN A STORM.
To say that Ephraim was astonished as this sympathetic remark fell upon
his ear, would be to convey a very faint idea of his sensations. For the
moment he was simply bewildered. The voice was the voice of a friend,
and where in all that great army should he look for a friend just now?
‘Who air ye?’ he attempted to say; but his tongue clove to his mouth,
and no sound came from his lips.
He groped for the corporal’s canteen and took a drink. ‘Who air ye?’ he
said at last. ‘Who air ye thet speak ter me like thet?’
His legs began to tremble under him. He sat down upon the ground and
took another sip of water from the canteen. It refreshed him, and he
listened eagerly for the reply.
‘A friend,’ answered the sentry. ‘Don’t ye be down in the mouth, Eph
Sykes. I’m hyar ter help ye. On’y we must go cautious, ye know.’
‘Who air ye?’ repeated Ephraim. ‘Who air ye?’ He said it over and over
again monotonously, like a parrot repeating the words.
‘Sh! What’s the matter with ye? Don’t ye know me? I thort ye would. I’m
Jake Summers. Ye know me now, don’t ye?’
‘Ah! I do thet,’ answered Ephraim with cold contempt. ‘Jake Summers, the
Southern Yankee. The man who quit old Virginny when the war broke out,
and took sides agin her. I know ye well enuff now. And ye call yerself a
friend. Yah! Git out and leave me alone.’
‘Oh, shet yer head, Grizzly,’ was the retort, given without a spice of
ill-humour. ‘What do you know? I reckon we’ve all got our own opinions,
and may be allowed ter keep ’em. I’m not the on’y one by a long sight ez
couldn’t make up his mind to cut loose from the old Union, ez ye know
well enough. I ’magine ye won’t deny a man the right ter foller the call
er his conscience in this onnatural war.’
‘Couldn’t ye hev hung on ter the Union ’thout firin’ bullets inter old
Virginny, ef thet’s the way ye felt about it,’ answered Ephraim.
‘Anyway, ye kin settle up with yer conscience the best way ye please, so
long as ye git out er thet. Quit!’
‘Eph,’ said the man earnestly, ‘don’t make sech a pizen noise, onless ye
want ter wake up them ez doesn’t feel fer ye ez I do. I tell ye I want
ter be yer friend ef ye’ll let me, and not be a fool.’
‘Garn away,’ replied Ephraim dismally, but not so roughly as before.
‘What kin ye do?’
‘I’ll show ye ef ye’ll git up and come over hyar, whar I kin talk ter ye
’thout bein’ heard all over the camp,’ said the man.—‘Eph, d’ye remember
little Toots?’
‘Ah, I remember him,’ answered Ephraim. ‘What ye bringin’ him up fer?’
‘Little Toots, my little b’y Toots,’ went on the man with a catch in his
voice. ‘The on’y one me and Jenny ever had. D’ye remember, Eph, after we
thort he war gittin’ well from the dipthery, how ye useter come and see
him, and bring him toys ye’d made yerself. One time it war a little gun,
one time it war a Noah’s ark ye’d cut him outern a block er pine, and
another time it war a Jack-in-the-box thet useter frighten him every
time it come out, and then make him larf till we thort he’d never stop?’
The rough voice died away in a sob.
‘I don’t see what yer meanin’ is,’ said Ephraim uncomfortably, for he
hated to be reminded of his little charities.
‘Don’t ye? I’ll larn ye soon. When we quit Staunton, Jenny and Toots and
me, the little b’y he sorter sickened after the old home, and he got
weaker and weaker. We’d lost everything, Eph, and we couldn’t git him
the little comforts he wanted, the pore lamb, and thar we hed ter sit
and see him wastin’ before our eyes, me and Jenny. Eph, I tell ye, he
war always singin’ out fer you. “I want Grizzly,” says he. “I want him
ter bring me a toy.” And when he died, Eph, he war jest huggin’ yer old
Jack-in-the-box ter his breast, ez ef he loved it too much ter leave it
behind him. So we put it in with him, Eph, fer we couldn’t bear ter take
it from him.’ His voice choked again, and he stopped abruptly.
‘Pore little Toots!’ murmured Ephraim sympathetically. ‘And so ye lost
him, Jake?’
‘We did,’ answered Jake; ‘and we thort our hearts war broke, we did, me
and Jenny. And then ter-night, jest now when the corporal brought ye
along and sot ye in thar with me ter look after ye, I couldn’t believe
it fer a spell. And then I thort how good ye’d been ter little Toots,
makin’ his little life thet happy, and how fond he war er ye and all.
And I sez ter myself, I dunno what Eph Sykes hez been up ter; but I
reckon ef harm comes ter him while I’m hyar ter keep it off’n him, I’ll
never be able ter look little Toots in the face when wanst I meet him
again. Now ye kin tell, Grizzly, ef I’m yer friend or ef I ain’t.’
Ephraim made no answer; but in the dark he groped for Jake’s hand and
wrung it hard.
‘I’ve got a plan, Eph,’ said Jake, returning the pressure. ‘It’s ez
simple ez hoein’ a row. On’y we must be quick.’
‘No, Jake, I can’t let ye do it,’ answered Ephraim at last. ‘Ye can’t
help me ’thout hurtin’ yerself, and I can’t save my life et the price er
another man’s, ’ceptin’ in a fair fight. It’s good er ye, Jake, and it’s
like what I remember ye in the old days. But I can’t let ye do it;
though I’m obleeged ter ye, all the same.’
‘Shucks!’ exclaimed Jake impatiently. ‘Don’t ye consarn yerself over me.
I reckon I like a whole skin ez well ez any man. Thar’ll be a
court-martial and thet; but they won’t be able to prove anythin’. Don’t
waste time. Hev ye got a knife?’
‘On’y a little wan,’ replied Ephraim, yielding to his persuasion.
‘Then take mine, and open the big blade. Now then, rip a great hole in
the back er the tent. Do it soft, now. Don’t make no noise. Hev ye done
it?’
‘Yes,’ answered Ephraim. ‘Am I ter git out thet way?’
‘My land! no. Ye’d be stopped before ye’d gone ten paces. It’s on’y fer
a blind, thet. Now come over hyar. Put yer hands behind yer back ez ef
they war tied, and step out alongside me. See hyar, Eph, this has got
ter be smartly done, fer I must git back ter my post without loss er
time. I’ll take the resk. I can’t do everythin’ I’d like ter do; but
I’ll pilot ye through the camp, and then ye must make a break fer the
woods on yer own account. Ef ye let ’em nab ye agen, ye’re not the man I
take ye fer. Air ye ready? Then come along.’
With considerable difficulty Ephraim clasped his hands behind his back,
owing to the stiffness in his shoulder; but he set his teeth and bore
the pain, and while Jake grasped him by the arm, the two of them set out
with soft but rapid steps through the slumbering camp.
Here and there a head was sleepily lifted; but the sight of a prisoner
at any hour of the day or night was altogether too common to attract
serious attention, and only once did Jake open his mouth to inform a
sentry that he was taking his charge to the provost-marshal.
Presently they reached the tent where the stern dispenser of martial law
slept in blissful unconsciousness that his prey was on the point of
slipping through his fingers. Needless to say they did not enter his
tent, which was at the extreme end of the camp near the river, but
making a slight detour, slipped past it, and almost immediately
afterwards Jake came to a halt.
‘Thet’s all I kin do fer ye, Grizzly,’ he whispered. ‘Ye must trust ter
luck fer the rest. God send ye git safe in. Give a kind thort ter Uncle
Sam sometimes fer this night’s work.’ And before Ephraim could utter a
word of the thanks that rushed to his lips, his benefactor had turned
and left him.
‘Waal,’ thought Ephraim, as he cast himself at full length upon the
ground in order to escape observation, ‘thet Jake Summers is a man down
ter his boots. To think of the few toys I give little Toots bringin’
about all this. I never thort when I made him thet Jack-in-the-box thet
it war ter be the savin’ er my life. My land! I kin sca’cely onderstand
it.’
As he lay, he rapidly revolved plan after plan for his further
procedure, rejecting them all, till at last he made up his mind to
attempt to reach the hut in the forest, and conceal himself therein
until the day broke.
‘It’s resky,’ he thought to himself; ‘but then everythin’s resky jest
now. And it’s better than wanderin’ round in the dark, when I might
plump up against a Yank before I knew whar I war. Thet window is so
handy, too. Onless they come on me from all sides at wanst, I kin slip
through it nicely and away inter the woods.’
He stole across the fields, bending almost to the ground lest any
prowling Federal or lynx-eyed sentry should catch sight of him; nor did
he pause to take breath until he reached the long ditch, at the far end
of which he had waged that memorable battle with Sergeant Mason, which
had, after all, resulted so disastrously for himself.
‘I wonder whether the corporal has found the despatch,’ he thought, as
he rested his back against the sloping side of the ditch. ‘It must hev
dropped out somewhar thar. He’s a good man, thet corporal, and ef I git
cl’ar of this scrape, I won’t hev so many hard things ter say agin the
Yanks after ter-night. ’Ceptin’, of co’se, that pesky Cunnel Spriggs.
But then, I reckon, he sorter stands alone, bein’, as Ginrul Shields
said, a disgrace ter everybody. I wonder whar he is, the critter! Layin’
on ter be lookin’ fer us, when all he wants is ter be quit er the fight
ter-morrer, or ter-day, for I guess it’s been ter-day this two hours
back. I wonder ef thar will be a battle. It’ll simplify matters a good
deal fer me ef thar is, fer the Yanks will hev enuff ter do ’thout
huntin’ me. I wonder whar Luce kin be? I hope he’s made our lines all
right. My land! I’d jest better quit wonderin’ and ‘tend ter business.’
He started off again, going warily, and anon reached, without accident,
the short arm of the wood, through which he groped cautiously until he
came opposite to the back of the hut. Here he paused again, and throwing
himself down, crawled on his hands and knees across the short strip of
intervening ground. At the window he raised himself up cautiously and
listened intently. Not a sound broke the stillness, and satisfied at
last, he edged his way round to the front.
‘All cl’ar,’ he thought. ‘Thet’s well. Now I’ll set down jest inside the
door, and then ef anybody comes I kin slip in and away through the
window, or out across the open ez the case may be. It’s oncomfortably
nigh the camp, this cabin; but I ’magine it’s the safest place till the
mornin’ breaks.’
He sat down at the door of the cabin, and pulling out a piece of the
corporal’s biscuit, ate it with relish. Half an hour passed, and the
deep stillness acting soothingly upon his tired nerves, he began to feel
drowsy, and actually nodded once or twice.
‘This won’t do,’ he muttered. ‘I must keep awake; it’——Another nod, and
then he sprang noiselessly to his feet, wide awake and quivering in
every limb. He heard, or thought he heard, a scratching sound at the
window of the hut.
He strained his ears to listen, ready the instant that doubt became
certainty to flee across the open into the fields once more.
Again that faint scratching sound, this time a little louder, and
accompanied by a gentle tapping.
‘It’s a squirr’l, I reckon,’ thought Ephraim, much relieved. ‘He has
maybe got a knot hole on the roof.’
‘Whippo-wil! whippo-wil! whippo-wil!’
Ephraim stiffened into attention again. There was nothing extraordinary
about the sound. It was night, or rather very early morning, the time
when the whip-poor-wills took their exercise and screamed out their
loud, clear notes; but there was something else. In the old days at
Staunton, which the startling events of the last four and twenty hours
had crowded so far into the background that they seemed removed by a
distance of years from the present, it had been Luce’s custom to come
whip-poor-willing down the little back street where Ephraim lived, to
give his friend timely notice of his approach. Therefore the sound had a
greater significance for the Grizzly.
‘Hear thet bird!’ he said to himself. ‘It’s jest what Luce use ter do.
My! I wonder will I ever git back to the old home again.’
‘Whippo-wil! whippo-wil! whippo-wil! Tap, tap, tap!’
Now a whip-poor-will may sing its song at night, but it does not usually
perch upon a window-sill and lightly tap to attract attention, and this
was borne home to Ephraim when for the third time the cry was repeated,
followed by the mysterious rapping.
Ephraim’s heart gave a great leap. ‘It can’t be!’ he said, in the
silence of his brain. ‘It can’t be! I reckon I must find out, though.’
He crept noiselessly round the cabin and peered beyond the angle of the
wall in the direction of the window.
The space at the back of the hut was darker than that at the front, for
the nearness of the woods threw an additional gloom; but Ephraim,
staring into the dark, could just make out a figure standing at a little
distance from the window with outstretched arm, which rose and fell
rhythmically, and at every movement came the light tap, tap of a switch
upon the sill.
‘Whippo-wil! whippo’——
‘Luce!’
‘Grizzly!’
There was a rush through the darkness, the shock of a violent meeting,
and panting, trembling, almost sobbing with joy, the two friends clung
to one another in a fervent embrace.
‘Luce!’ whispered the Grizzly, the words falling in broken syllables
from his lips. ‘What ye doin’ hyar? I thought ye would be safe and fur
away.’
‘I didn’t know what had become of you,’ whispered Lucius back; ‘but I
imagined that if you had got away you would make for the cabin. It
seemed the most likely place. Oh, I’m so glad! I’m so glad!’
‘I’m glad too; but I’m sorry ez well, fer I thought ye would be well
within our lines. Ugh! Ah!’
‘What is the matter?’ asked Lucius in alarm, as at another friendly hug
Ephraim uttered a low cry of pain.
‘It’s nuthin’, bub. On’y I got it in the shoulder, and ye gripped me
thar. Come into the cabin. We’ll be safer thet way.’
‘What! Are you wounded?’ inquired Lucius anxiously, as he followed
Ephraim in through the window.
‘Jest a scrape on the shoulder. Never mind it. Tell me what happened
after ye left me. I reckon ye ran back the way ye had come. I heard ye
shoutin’.’
‘No, I didn’t,’ answered Lucius. ‘At least, only for a few steps, and
then I made a break clean away. And I got through,’ he added proudly.
‘Through the ring thet was round ye?’ queried Ephraim, not
understanding.
‘No,’ replied Lucius; ‘through their lines and into ours.’
‘What! Ye—got—through—inter—our—lines?’
‘Yes; and gave the despatch to General Jackson.’
‘The despatch? Ginrul Jackson? Luce, what air ye sayin’?’
‘I am telling you just what happened,’ answered Lucius. ‘Didn’t you miss
it? The despatch, I mean. I found it in my pouch. We must have changed
belts without knowing it in the darkness of the cave.’
‘Ye found the despatch, and ye got inter our lines, and ye gave it ter
old Stonewall, I onderstand ye ter say!’ said Ephraim, still bewildered.
‘I did, all three.’ He laughed a low laugh of satisfaction.
‘Then why in thunder didn’t ye stay thar?’
‘Grizzly! Did you suppose that after all you have risked for me I would
run away and leave you without trying to find out what had become of
you? I had such a time with the General. He didn’t know me, not a little
bit, and he wouldn’t hear of my coming back. But he was so kind, and
when he saw how anxious I was about you, he actually came with me
himself as far as the outposts to find out if any one had seen you come
in where I did. And then’——He paused and gave another little laugh.
‘And then?’ queried Ephraim, who had listened to the recital in absolute
silence.
‘Then I gave him the slip and bolted for the Federal lines. Some one
gave the order to fire; but the General—I had told him who I was by that
time—called out “Order—arms!” and I got clean away.’
‘And how did ye git ez fur ez this?’
‘I sneaked through somehow. No one saw me. I heard a shot; but it was
not fired at me, and I made for this cabin as fast as I could; for I
thought you would be here if anywhere.’
The Grizzly bent forward with his head upon his arms and groaned aloud.
‘What is it?’ asked Lucius sympathetically. ‘Does your wound hurt you?’
‘Wound!’ moaned Ephraim. ‘D’ye s’pose I’m thinkin’ about thet et sech a
time ez this? No, Luce, it’s you. That ye should git off safe and all,
and then start out to come back fer me. Oh, bub, why did ye do it? Why
did ye do it?’
‘Why shouldn’t I?’
‘And ye don’t seem ter know thet ye’ve done anythin’ out er the way,’
said Ephraim in a wondering tone.
‘Grizzly, old stick, wouldn’t you have done as much for me?’
‘Thet’s different. I brought ye out, and it war my duty ter git ye home
agen ef it war anyways possible. Ye got yerself the best part er the
way—inter our lines, thet is—and now ye’ve been and run yer head inter
the hornet’s nest agen. And all fer me—all fer me. Luce, ye didn’t orter
hev done it. I warn’t wuth it, Luce.’ He sprang to his feet and groped
in the darkness for his friend. ‘I’ll never fergit what ye’ve done fer
me this day. Never ez long ez I live.’ His voice faltered, and he wrung
the younger boy’s hand in silence.
‘Shucks!’ exclaimed Lucius. ‘It’s nothing to talk about, and here I am
now. It doesn’t come up by a long measure to what you’ve done for me
from the time you broke into the pile till now. Besides, what’s the use
of being a friend if you don’t act friendly?’
‘Hear him!’ muttered Ephraim feebly. ‘It’s all very well, Luce. But I
can’t fergit it, and I’m not goin’ ter hev ye makin’ light er it.’
‘Well, here I am now,’ said Lucius; ‘and you are safe, I am thankful to
say. Tell me what has happened to you since last I saw you. I tell you,
while that fight was going on at the end of the ditch, I didn’t know
what to do, I was so frightened. I thought at first that the miserable
Yank had got you down.’
‘Don’t ye talk so airy er the miserable Yanks,’ said Ephraim
emphatically. ‘I’ve had more kindness ter-night from one or two of ’em
than I kin well begin ter say. Ef it warn’t fer a miserable Yank, I
wouldn’t be hyar jest now.’ And taking up his story, he poured into
Luce’s astonished ear a graphic account of his adventures since his
arrest.
‘Well,’ commented Lucius when the tale was finished, ‘you have had a
time of it, and no mistake. I hope Jake Summers got back before it was
found out that you were missed. He must be a good man. You see now what
it is to be a kind old Grizzly, and go around making little folks feel
happy. I remember little Toots. And so he’s dead?’
‘Yes,’ answered Ephraim, ‘and pore Jake took on orful when he war
tellin’ me about him. Yes, I do hope it will go well with Jake.’
‘I believe they won’t be likely to pry into that tent before dawn,’ said
Lucius. ‘There’s no reason why they should. They want light to hang a
man, I should say.’
‘It don’t foller,’ replied Ephraim drily. ‘But thar’ll be light enuff
soon,’ he added, moving to the door and looking out; ’fer the sky is
beginnin’ ter brighten. It’s time fer us ter quit this establishment.’
‘Why shouldn’t we stay here?’ demurred Lucius. ‘I should think it would
be as safe a place as any.’
‘Not when the day dawns,’ answered Ephraim. ‘Ye don’t s’pose that when
they begin ter hunt fer me that they’re not likely ter give a look in
hyar ez they pass by.’
‘I imagine that they will have enough to think about without losing time
on your trail,’ said Lucius. ‘I saw certain signs as I came through our
camp with the General that something was about to happen.’
‘Maybe,’ returned Ephraim quaintly; ‘but ef they lay hold er me before
thet suthin’ happens, I wouldn’t be able ter take so much interest in it
ez otherwise. No; we musn’t stop hyar.’
‘Where shall we hide, then?’ asked Lucius. ‘I tell you I’ve had enough
of trying to break through lines.’
‘I agree with ye thar,’ assented Ephraim. ‘Thar must be no more er that
sort er fun. We must make a push across the woods and try and reach the
mountain. We kin hide thar well enuff, or make our way along it,
whichever seems most reasonable.’
‘We shall only lose ourselves in the wood again,’ protested Lucius.
‘What is the good of that?’
‘Even so, we’ll hev a better chance ter dodge out er sight among the
trees,’ argued Ephraim. ‘Honestly, I think it ain’t safe ter stay hyar.’
‘Well, go ahead,’ said Lucius. ‘I am with you whatever you do. You’ve
got the longest head.’
‘I couldn’t manage ter git the despatch through, fer all my long head,’
exclaimed Ephraim admiringly.—‘Come along, then.’
They slipped through the window, and entered the wood in Indian file,
Lucius holding on to the skirt of Ephraim’s tunic, lest by any chance
they should get separated in the intense darkness, for though the dawn
was beginning to break, it would be some time yet before the light would
be powerful enough to illuminate the recesses of the forest.
As the stars paled in the sky before the approach of morning, two things
happened, both fraught with importance to our fugitives, though they
plunged along, steering blindly through the wood, trusting to Providence
to guide them aright, and ignorant meanwhile of the turn of events.
First, Stonewall Jackson’s infantry began to move across the foot-bridge
which he had thrown over the South Fork; and, secondly, Colonel Spriggs,
tired of the ineffectual pursuit, and resting his wearied men under the
mountain not far from the Confederate lines, sullenly turned his angry
face once more in the direction of his own camp. Not that he intended to
reach it just yet. His plan—a very simple one—was to lose himself in the
wood until the growing day should have revealed to him what the enemy
were about. If a battle should begin, he would thus be able to keep
clear of it; while, if otherwise, he could fall back upon the camp
quietly and at his leisure. But Colonel Spriggs had reckoned without
General Jackson, whose plans included the advance of Brigadier-general
Taylor’s Louisiana troops through the woods by the side of the mountain,
and it was therefore not improbable that Colonel Spriggs would find
himself in a very warm corner for once in his life before the day was
much older.
Of all these facts and probabilities, however, the boys knew nothing as
they held steadily on through the pathless woods, hoping and trusting
that their luck would lead them out upon the mountain-side, and at the
same time keeping a wary eye for possible surprises or openings in the
forest where an enemy might lurk.
The light grew stronger and the woods brighter, and suddenly they came
upon just such a place, a natural clearing, where the trees grew thinly
and the ground was covered with logs and underbrush. To walk across this
did not seem the right thing to do; but to their joy they saw the
mountain looming in front of them, and knew that at least their faces
were in the right direction.
‘It’ll not do ter cross over thar, Luce,’ said Ephraim in a low voice.
‘We must skirt it. Sh! I hear a sound. Down ter the ground! Thar’s some
one comin’ up.’
The wood, indeed, at that part was full of soldiers. The Louisiana men
were well forward, but unfortunately the boys had no suspicion that
their own men were so close at hand, and only reckoned that they had to
deal with their enemies, the Federals, who now appeared to be
surrounding them. Far away, but rapidly drawing nearer, they could hear
the tramp of stealthy footsteps, and now and again the low hum of
subdued voices. Nearer and nearer came the terrifying sounds, and lower
and lower they crouched, scarcely daring to breathe.
‘It’s no use trying to skirt it, Luce,’ whispered Ephraim, his mouth
close to the boy’s ear. ‘They seem ter be all about us. They’ll crowd us
out before we know. We must make a dash across the open before they git
up, and try and reach thet other belt er wood. We’ll be safer thar.’
‘There may be more on the other side,’ answered Lucius.
‘I know. We can’t help thet. We’ve got ter make a break fer freedom, and
chance the rest.’
They crawled to the edge of the clearing, and after one moment of
anxious listening, rose to their feet and stole swiftly into the open.
But no sooner had they broken cover than Ephraim, who was leading,
pulled up short, and with a sharp exclamation of surprise dashed back
again.
‘What is it?’ cried Lucius, following his friend’s example.
‘Look! look!’ whispered Ephraim excitedly. ‘Look over thar up in the
left angle er the clearing.’
‘Where?’ asked Lucius, peering out. ‘Oh!’ as his eyes encountered an all
too familiar object. ‘That horrible balloon.’
‘Bullee!’ exclaimed Ephraim excitedly. ‘This is whar we came down
yesterday, and thar’s old Blue Bag ready and willin’ ter carry us out er
this pesky difficulty. Bullee!’
However willing Blue Bag might be, it was a question whether she would
be able to aid her enthusiastic inventor, for what between her travels
and the time which had elapsed since she had been hauled down and
fastened to the log, a considerable quantity of gas had leaked out of
her, not to speak of that which Ephraim had deliberately set free in
order to bring about the descent. Still, she floated with a certain
amount of buoyancy, and Ephraim believed and hoped that when lightened
of every remaining scrap of ballast, she would be capable of rising to a
certain height, and of floating them out of the dangerous proximity of
the contending forces.
‘She wobbles a bit,’ said Ephraim, eyeing the balloon critically; ‘but I
reckon she’s good enuff yit ter take us past the Yanks, and thet’s all
we want. It don’t matter whether we come down in Staunton or in
Winchester, s’ long ez we git cl’ar er Lewiston. Come on, Luce. Thar
couldn’t be a better way than this. We’ve all the luck this mornin’.’
He had forgotten Luce’s little peculiarity in the matter of balloons,
and with another joyous ‘Come on!’ darted again into the open. The next
instant, finding himself alone, he stopped and looked back.
Lucius, deadly pale, with a queer strained look in his eyes, his knees
knocking together, and his body swaying from side to side, was standing
where Ephraim had left him, apparently unable to proceed.
‘What has struck ye, Luce?’ asked Ephraim anxiously. ‘Why don’t ye
come?’
‘I can’t,’ gasped Lucius. ‘I daren’t. It makes me sick to think of it.
I’d rather die.’
‘Waal,’ returned Ephraim, hugely disappointed, ‘ef ye can’t, ye can’t.
I’d fergotten how ye felt about it. No matter, we’ll make fer the woods
on the other side.—Ah, by time!’
He rushed back to Lucius and seized him by the hand. ‘Thar’s no help fer
it, Luce,’ he cried. ‘Ye _must_ come onless ye reely want ter die. I kin
see the gleam er bay’nets through the trees on the other side. We shall
be headed off. Thar’s no other way.’
He dragged Lucius forward with all his might; but the boy hung back,
sliding his feet over the ground like a jibbing pony.
So they went until rather more than half the distance had been covered,
and then all at once a loud shout was raised behind them, and Ephraim,
looking hastily round, uttered a groan of despair.
Out from the coverts at the far end of the clearing rushed Colonel
Spriggs, his face aflame with excitement, and waving his sword as he
drew near.
[Illustration]