"D'you mean to tell me that neither of you men can hear that sound?"
he asked the sentries.
Both men listened intently, and presently one of them made out a very
faint and distant noise, that did not seem to blend in with the other
night-sounds.
"Might be a native drum?" he hazarded.
"No, 'tain't!" said the other. "I got it now. It's a horse galloping.
Tired horse, by the sound of him, and coming this way. All right,
Sergeant."
"One of you go two hundred yards along the road, and form an advance-post,
so to speak. Challenge him the minute he's within ear-shot, and shoot
him if he won't halt. If he halts, pass him along to Number Two.
Number Two, pass him along to the guardroom, where I'll deal with
him! Which of you's Number One? Number One, then--forward--
quick--march!"
The sentry trudged off in one direction, and Bill Brown in another.
The sentry concealed itself behind a rock that flanked the road,
and Brown spent the next few minutes in making the guard "port arms,"
and carefully inspecting their weapons with the aid of a lantern.
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