Mass' George

"What is the matter?" I said, wonderingly.

"You said you may trust me."

"Yes; I did."

"That did it. It's just what I said to the colonel when he asked me if I could keep on sentry without going to sleep."

"But you would not go to sleep without leaving some one else to watch."

"No," he said, sternly, "and I won't skulk. I've been digging and planting so long that I've forgotten my soldiering. No, sir, a man who goes to sleep at his post when facing the enemy ought to be shot, and,"

he added with emphasis, "he deserves it."

"Here um come, Ma.s.s' George," whispered Pomp just at that moment.

"What--to relieve guard?" I said, quickly, as I thought of the sentry's mistake.

"No, Ma.s.s' George, de Injum."

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

The sentry craned his neck forward over the great fence staring out into the gloom, and I followed his example, my heart beating heavily the while, the regular throbs seeming to rise right up to my throat in a way that was painful; but I could see nothing. There was the great star-specked sky reaching down towards earth, and ending suddenly in a clearly defined line which I knew was the edge of the forest beyond the plantations, which all lay in darkness that was almost black.

I strained my eyes, and held my breath, looking and listening, but could make out nothing, and at last I placed my lips close to Pomp's ear.

"Where are they?" I said.

"Dah!"

As he uttered that one word he stretched out his black hand, pointing straight away toward the forest; but still I could see nothing, and there was not a sound.

At that moment the sentry laid his hand upon my shoulder, and said softly, "Is he playing tricks with us?"

"No," I answered; "he thinks he sees them. His eyes are wonderful by night."

"Well, mine are not, for I can see nothing or hear anything either."

"Are you sure, Pomp?" I whispered.

"Yes; sure," he said. "Big lot of Injum coming to fight."

"Hadn't you better give the alarm?" I said to the sentry.

"I can't give the alarm till

I could not help sympathising with the man as he continued--

"'Spose I fire," he said, "and the enemy don't come on; n.o.body has seen them, and nice and stupid I should look."

"But Pomp says he's sure."

"I'm not," said the man, gruffly.

"Be ready then, and fire the moment they begin to make a rush," I said, excitedly. Then, turning to the boy, I whispered, "Now then; tell me once more, can you see the Indians?"

"Yes, dah," he said, quietly.

"You are sure?"

"Yes, suah. Dey come now. Let Pomp shoot."

"No, no; come with me," I said, catching hold of his arm. "Let's run to my father."

The boy was so accustomed to obey me, that he left the place directly, and hurried with me across the enclosure in and out among the camping groups, to where our few poor belongings lay, and I at once awakened my father.

"Pomp has seen the Indians coming on," I said.

He started up, and so dull and heavy had been his sleep that he did not understand me for the time.

"The Indians, father," I said.

He sprang up on the instant then, and felt for his sword.

"You say the boy saw them?"

"Yes, coming on. We were with one of the sentries."

"But he has not fired. I should have heard."

"No, father, he would not believe Pomp could see them."

"Pomp could see um--big lots," said the boy.

"That is enough," said my father. "Tell the bugler--no; we will not show them that we know," he said. "Come with me."

We followed him to where the General was lying on a blanket or two in the midst of his possessions, and he was on his feet in an instant giving his orders, which were conveyed here and there to the various officers, from whence they spread to the men so rapidly and silently that in a few minutes, almost without a sound, a hundred well-armed defenders of the fort were on their way to the fence in twenty little squads, each of which reinforced the sentries, and stood waiting for the attack.

So silent and unchanged was everything when I played the part of guide, and led my father and the General to where we had been watching, that my heart sank, and I felt guilty of raising a false alarm. Then I half shrank away as I heard the General question the sentry, and he replied that he had neither seen nor heard anything. Just then my father turned to me.

"Where's the boy?"

"Here, Pomp," I whispered; but I looked round in vain, and after a few minutes' search I was fain to confess that he had gone.

"It is some trick," whispered my father, with suppressed anger. "I cannot hear a sound."

"No; I feel sure he was in earnest. He certainly believed he saw the Indians."

My father turned to the General, and they conversed together in a low voice for some minutes, during which I stood there feeling as if I were wrong, and forgetting that even if I were it was only a case of being over anxious in our cause.