Pain shot through
his own heart, as if it had been touched by a knife. Paul, the
well-beloved comrade of his youth, captured and subjected to the
torture! His blood turned to ice in his veins. How could they ever have
missed the boy? Paul now seemed to Henry at least ten years younger than
himself. It was not merely the fault of a single man, it was the fault
of them all. He stared back into the thickening darkness, where the
flashes of flame burst now and then, and, in an instant, he had taken
his resolve.
"I do not know where Paul is," he said, "but I shall find him."
"Henry! Henry! what are you going to do?" cried his father in alarm.
"I'm going back after him," replied his son.
"But you can do nothing! It is sure death! Have we just found you to
lose you again?"
Henry touched his father's hand. It was an act of tenderness, coming
from his stoical nature, and the next instant he was gone, amid the
smoke and the vapors and the darkness, toward the Indian army.
Mr. Ware put his face in his hands and groaned, but the hand of Ross
fell upon his shoulder.
"The boy will come back, Mr.
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