Was it all true? I asked myself, and felt ready to rub my eyes and try to rouse myself from the horrible nightmare dream from which I was suffering.

I was awakened sufficiently the next moment by Morgan's words, as he said in a quiet, decided manner--

"Yes, Master George, we've done our duty as far as we can, and there's only one more thing left to do--when the time comes, sir; when the time comes."

Just then, to my utter astonishment, there was a movement among the men, and one of them came up close to me.

"You'll shake hands, sir," he said. "I've taken a deal of notice of you, different times."

I held out my hand mechanically, felt it warmly wrung, and then had it seized in turn by the others, while I was struggling to speak words that would not come. At last though they burst forth.

"But the women and children!" I cried, as my heart seemed to stand still.

"Better than being butchered by those savages," said Morgan, gloomily.

"I'd sooner see my poor wife die than fall into their hands."

His words silenced me, for I knew that they could expect no mercy. Then feeling utterly exhausted, I was munching a piece of bread, where I sat on a rough case, and sipping a little water from time to time, when just as the fire was at its height, with great waves of flame floating gently away from the great pine-wood building and illumining the wide clearing all round, I heard a familiar voice behind me say in his droll, dry fashion--

"What pity!"

"Ah, Pomp!" I cried, turning to him; "you there?"

"Iss, Ma.s.s' George. When we go home again? Pomp done like dis place 'tall."

"No, nor n.o.body else, boy," said Morgan, sadly. "Hark! Hear anything?"

He seized his gun as he spoke, but it was only a hissing scream made by one of the water-soaked timbers as the steam was forced out.

"n.o.body come. Injum all gone away."

"How do you know?" I cried, eagerly.

"Pomp done know. Tink um all gone. No shoot arrow now."

"Wrong, boy," said Morgan. "They are hatching some fresh scheme, and they'll be down upon us directly."

There was a pause.

"And then it will be all over," muttered Morgan, as he turned towards Pomp, looked at him firmly, and then held out his hand.

"Come here, boy," he said.

"Wha' for? Pomp no do nuffum. Can't do nuffum here."

"Come and shake hands."

Pomp laughed and held out his hand, which Morgan took.

"If I don't see you again, boy, good-bye, and I'm sorry I've been so rough to you sometimes."

"Ma.s.s' Morgan go walking out in wood? Take Pomp."

Morgan heaved a deep sigh. "Ah, you don't bear any malice," he said.

Pomp shook his head, and looked at me, for it was Greek to him.

"Not so bad as that," I said. "Come, cheer up."

"Can't any more, my lad," said Morgan. "No one can't say, look you, that I haven't cheered up through thick and thin. But, look here, Master George, speaking fair now, what is the good of Injuns?"

"Injum no good," said Pomp, sharply.

"Right, boy; no good at all. Phew!" he whistled; "how them logs do burn!"

"Ah! No duck, no fis', no turkey roace on 'tick!" said Pomp, regretfully. "Shoot, shoot, shoot, lot time, an' no shoot nuffum to eat. Pomp dreffle hungly."

"There's plenty of bread," I said, smiling at the boy's utter unconcern about our position of peril.

"Yah, 'tuff! Nas' 'tuff. Pomp too dreffle hungly eat any more bread.

Why no go now and kill all Injum? Pomp fine de way."

The boy looked quite vexed at his proposition being declined, and squatted down to gaze at the fire, till after a time he lay down to look at it, and at last Morgan said to me--

"Don't trouble him much, lad. Fast asleep."

It was quite true. There lay Pomp enjoying a good rest, while we watched the progress of the flames, which rose and fell and gleamed from the pieces of the watchful men dotted round the great place, then left them in shadow, while a terrible silence had now fallen upon the camp.

The fierce fire crackled and roared, and the flames fluttered as a great storm of sparks kept floating far away, but no one spoke, and it was only when an officer went round to the various posts that there seemed to be the slightest motion in the camp.

"Takes a cleverer man than me to understand Injun," said Morgan at last, just before daybreak, as I returned from the tent where my father was sleeping peacefully, and Hannibal outside wrapped in a blanket quite calmly taking his rest.

"What do you mean?" I said, wearily.

"I mean I can't make out the ways of Injuns. Here have we been watching all night, expecting to have a big fight by way of finish up, and Pomp's right after all. They seem to have gone."

"If I could only think so!" I replied, with a sigh.

"Well, lad, I think they are," said Morgan. "They might have had it all their own way, and beaten us pretty easy a time back, but they've let their chance go by; and I suppose they're satisfied with the mischief they've done for one night, and have gone back to their camp to sing and dance and brag to one another about what brave fellows they all are."

It soon proved to be as Morgan had said, for the day broke, and the sun rose soon after, to shine down warm and bright upon as dejected, weary-looking, and besmirched a body of men as could have been seen.

For they were all blackened with powder and smoke; some were scorched, and in every face I could read the same misery, dejection, and despair.

But the General, Colonel Preston, and several of the leading gentlemen soon sent a different spirit through the camp. A few orders were given, the sentries changed, three parts being withdrawn; the women, who looked one half-hour haggard, pale, and scared, wore quite a changed aspect, as they hurriedly prepared food for their defenders; and in a very short time cries and shouts from the children helped to make some of us think that matters were not quite so desperate after all.

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN.

It is astonishing what can be done in the most painful times when there are good leaders, and a spirit of discipline reigns. I remember how I noted it here that noontide; when, after food and rest, the fresher men relieved sentries, and strove to listen to the General as he pointed out that though the block-house was gone and our retreat cut off, we were in nearly as good a position of defence as ever, for our barriers were firm, and it was not certain, even in the most fierce of a.s.saults, that the enemy could win. In addition, he pointed out that at any hour a British ship might appear in the river, whose presence alone would startle the Indians; while if the worst came to the worst, there would be a place for us to find safety.