Missing children -- Juvenile fiction; Peninsular War, 1807-1814 -- Juvenile fiction; Soldiers -- Juvenile fiction
And as he knelt there the firing went on, but in a scattered way, as the
200th fell back with the enemy in full pursuit, the boy turning at last
to watch the progress of the fight far below and seeing the scarlet
coats of his friends growing more and more distant in the smoke, and the
blue uniforms of the French as they crowded after them, till the reports
of the muskets grew faint; and the echoes from high up on either side of
the gorge more soft till they died away.
Dick's first idea was to hurry off, but there was only one way, and that
was down the wooded ravine; but he could not go that way, for the place
between him and his friends was swarming with the French soldiers, and
he shuddered at the thought of trying to get through them. He had of
late seen and heard so much of their cruel acts.
What should he do?
He had hardly asked himself this question when he heard a shout, and his
heart leaped--it was his friends coming back.
No; he could see below him the uniforms of the French soldiers, and
their bayonets flashing in the golden light of the sinking sun, and in
fear he shrank back among the thick bushes and hid below the place where
he had been thrown, to lie listening as the voices came nearer, a peep
or two that he stole showing that the enemy were spread out low down by
the rugged track, evidently very busy, and it seemed to the boy that
they were hunting for him to kill him.
He grew more and more sure of this as the voices came nearer, but at
last he realised the truth--that the men were searching amongst the
bushes for the wounded and dead.
This went on for an hour, and Dick's courage rose as he saw them
carrying man after man down to the track, men in red and men in blue,
and bearing them away, with the voices growing fewer and fewer.
"And it will soon be dark," the boy said to himself, "and then I can go
back and find mother and father."
Just then he heard shouts again, and he shrank back beneath the bushes,
to listen, not understanding a word; but the voices came nearer and
nearer and Dick's heart sank, for there was a shout and two men ran up
to within a dozen yards of where the boy lay.
"They can see me, and are going to shoot," he thought, and he shut his
eyes and shivered, and thought of the corporal and his wife.
But no shot was fired; no bright keen bayonet plunged through the
bushes; and taking courage the boy raised his head and peered upward
towards where two French soldiers were busy doing something, and another
came and joined them, to stand talking and laughing.
Then the boy grasped the fact that they had seen the mule, and were
cutting the ropes and opening the pack to see if there was anything
worth taking.
At last the notes of a bugle came echoing up the ravine from side to
side.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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