My
head buzzed like a beehive, and when the moon set I had no power to
pick my steps, and stumbled and sprawled in the darkness. I had to ask
Shalah for help, though it was a sore hurt to my pride, and, leaning on
his arm, I made the rest of the journey.
I found myself splashing in a strong river. We crossed by a ford, so we
had no need to swim, which was well for me, for I must have drowned.
The chill of the water revived me somewhat, and I had the strength to
climb the other bank. And then suddenly before me I saw a light, and a
challenge rang out into the night.
The voice was a white man's, and brought me to my bearings. Weak as I
was, I had the fierce satisfaction that our errand had not been idle. I
replied with the password, and a big fellow strode out from a stockade.
"Mr. Garvald!" he said, staring. "What brings you here? Where are the
rest of you?" He looked at Shalah and then at me, and finally took my
arm and drew me inside.
There were a score in the place--Rappahannock farmers, a lean, watchful
breed, each man with his musket. One of them, I mind, wore a rusty
cuirass of chain armour, which must have been one of those sent out by
the King in the first days of the dominion. They gave me a drink of rum
and water, and in a little I had got over my worst weariness and could
speak.
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