Hayward made no reply. At this moment, a female, delicate and fair, came tripping lightly into the tent, her face wreathed in smiles, and her eyes sparkling with delight; but, as she caught sight of Hayward, she paused, and gazed upon him for a moment, exhibiting the most intense interest; then advancing, and placing her hand upon his shoulder, she spoke:
Hayward started, and clasping her in his arms, he pressed her close to his heart for a moment. But, gazing into his eyes, she asked:
“What is the matter, dear Harry, you appear ill?”
The countenance of Hayward underwent an instant change, as he replied:
“Not ill, but somewhat depressed in spirits, perhaps, in view of what a day may bring forth.”
“Oh! Harry,” she said, “I hear there is going to be another fight. Will _you_ have to go into it and leave me?”
“Should there be a battle, I shall endeavor to protect you, dear sister.”
“But, you will be in danger; perhaps wounded—perhaps killed! Oh! what _would_ I do, then? Don’t go, Harry!” and the gentle girl threw her arms around her brother’s neck and wept. After a moment, he raised her, and pressing his lips to her forehead, said:
“I wish to speak with these gentlemen a moment. Go to your friend Alibamo’s tent. I will come for you, soon!” The sister cast back a look of fond solicitude, and left the tent.
Hayward gazed after her a moment, muttering audibly:
“Poor child, what _would_ you do if I should fall. You would indeed be alone!”
“Now, captain, I don’t think that’s half fair,” exclaimed the one spoken of as being the servant. “Do you think I am such a darn skunk as to—if you was killed—the darn—not to fight for my capt’n’s sister—the skunk—no, I mean, if you die—if she—darn me, if I don’t—I—I—” and the speaker, as if unable to express what he _did_ mean, suddenly left the tent. All present smiled broadly, and good-humor was thus, for the moment, infused in all hearts.
“He has gone to the sutler for a dictionary!” added another.
“His heart is in the right place,” remarked Hayward.
“That’s so!” responded all, with emphasis.
“You are safe, with such a ‘darn skunk’ for your body-guard, Captain Hayward,” Gilbert declared, with comic seriousness.
William Nettleton was in height about six feet. His general appearance was very singular. His hair was nearly white—naturally so; his eyes of a light green and large; his carriage very loose—indeed, when he walked, one would almost expect to see him fall in pieces. His feet were huge in dimensions. He had the appearance of a half-witted, illy-formed person; but he was, withal, neither one nor the other. Having been detached from the company to which he belonged, to act as servant to Captain Hayward, he soon became so greatly attached and devoted to the captain, as to be styled his “body-guard.” This attachment was not fictitious, nor did it proceed from a spirit of military sycophancy or subserviency; it was felt. Nettleton had evinced more than ordinary courage on several occasions, and had, also, displayed so much judgment with his intrepidity, that he had received offers of advancement; but these he declined, preferring, as he expressed himself, “to stay with my capt’n, the first what promoted me.”