"Grey, Zane - Betty Zane" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grey Zane)

"What!" ejaculated the Colonel, letting his pipe fall from his mouth.

Clarke related the circumstances in a few hurried words. Calling Sam they ran
quickly down to the river, where they found the prostrate figure as Clarke had
left it, the dog still crouched close by.

"My God! It is Isaac!" exclaimed Colonel Zane, when he saw the white face.
"Poor boy, he looks as if he were dead. Are you sure he spoke? Of course he
must have spoken for you could not have known. Yes, his heart is still
beating."

Colonel Zane raised his head from the unconscious man's breast, where he had
laid it to listen for the beating heart.

"Clarke, God bless you for saving him," said he fervently. "It shall never be
forgotten. He is alive, and, I believe, only exhausted, for that wound amounts
to little. Let us hurry."

"I did not save him. It was the dog," Alfred made haste to answer.

They carried the dripping form to the house, where the door was opened by Mrs.
Zane.

"Oh, dear, another poor man," she said, pityingly. Then, as she saw his face,
"Great Heavens, it is Isaac! Oh! don't say he is dead!"

"Yes, it is Isaac, and he is worth any number of dead men yet," said Colonel
Zane, as they laid the insensible man on the couch. "Bessie, there is work
here for you. He has been shot."

"Is there any other wound beside this one in his arm?" asked Mrs. Zane,
examining it.

"I do not think so, and that injury is not serious. It is lose of blood,
exposure and starvation. Clarke, will you please run over to Captain Boggs and
tell Betty to hurry home! Sam, you get a blanket and warm it by the fire.
That's right, Bessie, bring the whiskey," and Colonel Zane went on giving
orders.

Alfred did not know in the least who Betty was, but, as he thought that
unimportant, he started off on a run for the fort. He had a vague idea that
Betty was the servant, possibly Sam's wife, or some one of the Colonel's
several slaves.

Let us return to Betty. As she wheeled her pony and rode away from the scene
of her adventure on the river bluff, her state of mind can be more readily
imagined than described. Betty hated opposition of any kind, whether
justifiable or not; she wanted her own way, and when prevented from doing as
she pleased she invariably got angry. To be ordered and compelled to give up
her ride, and that by a stranger, was intolerable. To make it all the worse