"
"Away, away!" cried Griffith; "here is no place for idle parades; if we
find shelter from discovery and capture until you shall be needed in a
deadly struggle, 'twill be well."
Manual was slowly retracing his steps to the skirts of the wood, when he
suddenly turned, and asked:
"Shall I post a small picket, a mere corporal's guard, in the open
ground in front, and make a chain of sentinels to our works?"
"We have no works--we want no sentinels," returned his impatient
commander; "our security is only to be found in secrecy. Lead up your
men under the cover of the trees, and let those three bright stars be
your landmarks--bring them in a range with the northern corner of the
wood----"
"Enough, Mr. Griffith," interrupted Manual; "a column of troops is not
to be steered like a ship, by compass, and bearings and distances;--trust
me, sir, the march shall be conducted with proper discretion, though in
a military manner."
Any reply or expostulation was prevented by the sudden disappearance of
the marine, whose retreating footsteps were heard for several moments,
as he moved at a deliberate pace through the underwood. During this
short interval, the Pilot stood reclining against the corner of the
ruins in profound silence; but when the sounds of Manual's march were no
longer audible, he advanced from under the deeper shadows of the wall,
and approached his youthful companion.
"We are indebted to the marine for our escape," he said; "I hope we are
not to suffer by his folly.
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