"Bah! never mind them. We can soon have better ones built."
He led me to where there was some bread and a little meat, and as I went
among the trees I could see that we had sentries stationed, while the
rest of the men lay about resting or smoking, while the doctor was
seated by Sergeant Craig, whose arm lay upon a folded coat.
I felt no appetite. The heat beneath the trees was terrible, and I was
stiff and sore with the previous day's exertions; but I ate a little in
obedience to Brace's wish, and he sat watching me.
"Go on, my lad," he said.
"I cannot," I replied.
"You must. You will want all your strength for to-night's work. Eat."
I went on again with the bread tasting like chaff, and the meat tainted,
but at last I turned away in utter disgust.
"It will do me harm, not good," I said. "Now tell me, what are we going
to do?"
"Wait till dark," he said, "and then try and reconnoitre the village
over yonder. As far as I can make out the rebels are making it their
quarters for the day. I want to see whether it will be possible to do
anything by a night surprise, but whether I shall attempt it must depend
on the position they have taken up."
"Where is the village?" I asked.
He led me to the edge of the patch of forest in which we were hidden,
and pointed out a cluster of mud-houses about a couple of miles away,
right in an open part of the plain which spread away from us for miles.
"Keep back behind the leaves," he said, "in case watchful eyes might be
directed this way."
I obeyed, and tried to make out the glint of steel or the white garments
of the rebels. But nothing was to be seen but the glaring sunshine
bathing the trees which overhung the cottages. Not a soul was in sight.
"They can't be there," I said, after watching for some time.
"They are there," replied Brace, quietly. "Look under that tree, the
one with a couple more standing out from it at intervals. Tell me what
you can see."
I looked as well as the glare of the sun and the distance would allow
me.
"I can only see a cottage," I said.
"It is not a cottage; it is a tent."
"But surely they would not stop at a place like that."
"Why not?" he replied. "They have something to do now that they have
seized the guns--to manage them."
"Then you think they have stopped there to drill?" I cried.
"I fancy so; but we shall see after the reconnaissance to-night."
"Whom shall you send?" I cried eagerly. "Let me go."
"It is too important a task to trust to another," he replied. "I am
going myself. You can go with me if you like."
I eagerly snatched at the opportunity, and then sat down with him near
the edge of the jungle patch to watch the village and note everything
that passed. In the course of conversation Brace told me that the
doctor would also start on his expedition at dark, Dost accompanying him
to the lane in the city, where he could attend to the major's wounds and
learn whether there was any news of the women.
Brace kept on chatting to me; but I soon found out that it was to keep
down his excitement, and his mind employed, so that he should not dwell
upon the terrible enforced delay; for quite a fever was consuming him,
his eyes looked unnaturally bright, and his fingers kept twitching and
playing with the handle of his sword.
That night seemed as if it would never come, and I never suffered so
from the heat; but it came at last, and, almost before I realised it,
Brace was giving the doctor his final instructions and a message for the
major.
"Tell him," said Brace, in a low voice, "that I shall never rest till I
have retrieved our disgrace. Tell him to be of a good heart, for I will
get back the guns."
"My dear Brace," said the doctor coldly, "our poor friend is not likely
to understand anything for some days to come, perhaps weeks. Your
message is all in vain. Now, Dost--ready?"
The white figure of my servant glided up to us, and the next minute the
pair had disappeared, while, after a few words had been addressed to
Haynes as to keeping the men well under cover, we two stepped out of the
shelter of the jungle, and the darkness swallowed us from the sight of
the sentry.
We had carefully mapped our way that afternoon, and I saw it all in my
mind; how we must go down that nullah, along by those trees, and make
straight for the cultivated land, which spread out around the village,
evidently one whose inhabitants cultivated largely for the benefit of
the city. And in all our discussions as to our course, Brace and I had
thoroughly agreed, for the task was, or seemed to be, simplicity itself;
but in the intense darkness of the Indian night it proved to be very
different in character.
As we started we could see the distant lights of the city across the
river, and, keeping them on our right, they formed sometimes a guide for
a few minutes; but they were soon hidden from us by the trees, and, with
the darkness growing more intense, we had literally to feel our way
along.
"Are we going straight?" I said, after we had been walking for about a
quarter of an hour. "We ought to have reached the cultivated land
before now. We are still among the trees."
"Distances are deceptive in the sunshine," replied my companion. "Keep
close behind me."
"As close as I can," I whispered, as it struck me that distances seemed
to be more deceptive in the darkness.
Brace had drawn his sword, and was using it as a guide, to keep from
walking into some bush or against a tree; and as I followed him I could
hear the blade rustle amongst the bushes, and tap against small tree
trunks; but, though it saved him, I was not so guarded, for I tripped
twice, and once went down headlong through getting my foot caught in
some kind of wild vine.
At last, after what had seemed to be a tremendous while, we found
ourselves brought up by an irrigation ditch; but we managed to clear it,
and alighted at once upon soft earth, which we knew was cultivated
ground, and stepped out more freely.
It seemed to me a mad venture, but, without daring almost to madness, it
was not likely that we could rescue our guns from the enemy's hands,
though how we were going to reconnoitre that night, or gain any
information as to the movements of the enemy, I could not see. Still I
was on duty; my superior officer was leading, and I felt no other
inclination than to blindly obey.
Whenever I recall that expedition now, I begin somehow to think about
blind men and their feelings; for we might almost as well have been
thus. Our eyes were not of the slightest use to us, the stars being
blotted out as it were by the thick mist into which we had plunged, and
through which we slowly groped our way.
"Keep tight hold of my hand," said Brace, in a whisper.
"We shall never find the village," I said.
"We must find it, Gil," he said, as he gripped my hand hard. And on we
went, with my companion feeling his way step by step, still using his
sword as guide, and for the peaceful object of guarding us from such
enemies as trees, against which we might run, and ditches into which we
might fall.
The heat was terrible--a hot, steamy, misty heat, which helped to
saturate us--as we slowly struggled on, pausing every now and then to
listen, knowing, as we did, that almost at any minute now we might hear
a voice challenging us out of the darkness, and see the flash of a
musket or rifle as it sent a leaden messenger in our direction.
But all was still as death for a time, and then I stopped short with a
horrible feeling of dread; for from a short distance in front there
suddenly rang out the terrible cry as of one in mortal peril. Some one
was being killed I was sure; and to hear that sound in the pitchy
darkness, overwrought as I was by exertion and nervous excitement,
robbed me for the moment of the power to move or speak.
"What is it?" said Brace at last, as he tugged at my hand to get me
forward.
"That--that horrible cry!" I whispered.
"Bah!" he replied. "You ought by this time to know a jackal."
I hurried on at once with a sense of shame that was painful, for I felt
that Brace would despise me for my cowardice; but we spoke no more for
some time, and then he halted as if puzzled and confused.
"We ought to have reached the place before now," he whispered. "We must
have borne off too much to the right or left."
"What shall we do?" I said, with my lips close to his ear.
"Wait! Listen!"
We stood there with our feet sinking in the soft mud of what I fancied
must be a rice-ground; but, save our laboured breathing, there was not a
sound. It was a stillness like death.
"I'm a poor guide, Gil," he said at last; "but we must find it. Shall
we try to the right or the left?"
"Better wait a little longer," I replied. "We must hear some one speak
if the place is near."
"If only one of the horses would whinny," he muttered.
But the silence was unbroken, and, with the feeling upon me that we
might be going farther and farther from the place we sought, I followed
him again, still holding tightly by his hand.
For the next hour we struggled on, now wading through mud and water, now
feeling some kind of growth brushing against our legs; but when, at the
end of that time, we stopped short for a further consideration of our
position, it seemed to be hopeless in the extreme.
We listened, but there was not a sound, and at last Brace uttered an
impatient ejaculation.
"An utter failure!" he whispered.
"I'm afraid so," I replied. "We must have wandered off to left or
right. Had we not better go back and make a fresh start?"
"How?"
Before he had said that word bitterly, I felt how foolish my remark was,
and remained silent.
"My good Gil," he continued, "I wish we could; it is terrible. I have
not the most remote idea which way to turn, and the next thing will be
that we shall be found hopelessly bogged at daybreak, and become
prisoners, or--"
A shiver ran through me, for there was no need for him to finish his
sentence; but there was a feeling of reaction directly.
"Not so bad as that," I said. "We must find the place somehow. It
can't be so very far away."
_Cock-a-doodle-doo_!
The crowing was so close to us that I gave quite a jump, and then stood
fast, as from almost above our heads there was the rustle and beating of
wings and the querulous cry of a hen, as if fowls were fidgeting
somewhere upon a perch, no doubt disturbed by our being so near.
_Cock-a-doodle-doo_ came from a short distance off to our left, and
directly after, in response to the challenge, there came the beating of
wings from somewhere away in front, and another deeper-voiced crow came
through the denser darkness.
"Gil," whispered Brace--and I felt his hot breath in my ear--"we are
close up to the village."
We stood there with beating hearts, and a feeling of excitement that was
almost unbearable growing upon us as, after a little more rustling, the
fowls quieted down, and carefully feeling his way with his sword, Brace
took a few steps in the direction of the first crowing. Then his sword
tapped against wood, and there was a loud cackling from several fowls
above our head.
"Hist," I said.
"No danger," he said; "they will think it is a jackal disturbing the
birds."