WE FIND COLONEL DONALD
supposing his knife thrust had reached a vital part, believed the man had fallen dead, as he probably never moved. That water is reviving him."
I had a small flask of brandy in the pocket of my jacket, a swallow or two remaining. This I succeeded in forcing between Donald's teeth, and he gulped it down unconsciously, O'Brien bracing his head up with supporting shoulder. The fiery stuff had immediate effect; the man's eyes opened, his great chest heaved in an effort to breathe. He stared into our faces apparently without comprehending; the blue uniforms alone riveting his attention.
"Yankees?" the single word came with a sob.
"Yes, Colonel Donald," I explained hastily, "but we are here to help you. You remember me, do you not—Lieutenant King?"
A moment he appeared to hesitate, as if the recollection were not entirely clear; then his expression became more natural, and he made a weak effort to smile.
"King? King? Oh, certainly, I remember now; your men came, and I—" He stopped, evidently struggling to recall what had occurred to him after the arrival of the troopers. I thought perhaps a word of explanation might assist in clearing his brain.
"It was a troop of Federal cavalry despatched to my aid. Colonel Donald. I sent Miss Denslow up the stairs, intending you should thus have an opportunity for escape, and was still parleying with the fellows on the front porch, when a squad of concealed Confederates poured a volley into us. They hit a few, but the remainder made the
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