"We are in a rough kind of shed supported on bamboo poles. Come on."
He led the way again past the place that he had first touched with his
sword, and we could feel that we were passing over hard beaten ground.
Directly after, Brace touched another building, and went on, carefully
feeling about, while I fully expected from moment to moment that I
should hear a challenge followed by the flash of a piece and its loud
report.
"Cottage--door open--empty," whispered Brace; and he crept on
cautiously, to find another place directly, and so on, one after the
other, cottage after cottage, the beaten path telling us that we were in
a well-frequented place; but the silence was profound, and it soon
became evident that we were on the site of the village--if village it
was--that was quite deserted.
Brace stopped short, his sword having encountered what he found was a
tree trunk, and a little further investigation proved that several more
were dotted about.
"We must bear off to the right," he whispered. "The people deserted the
place when the rebels came, and they are quartered on the other side.
Come along."
The words were at my lips to implore him to be careful, but I thought he
would think me cowardly, so I followed him as we crept slowly on,
passing house after house--mere hovels, most of them, but all open and
empty. As we paused before one of these, I whispered--
"Suppose we come upon them suddenly?"
"Keep fast hold of my hand and retreat; the darkness is on our side."
I said no more, and we kept slowly on past dozens of houses all in the
same condition, and either deserted, or with their occupants asleep.
Then the buildings ceased as far as we could make out in the darkness,
for we came upon trees.
"We must have come right through the village," whispered Brace. "It is
very strange. They would have been sure to set sentries, and we ought
to hear the horses stamping or whinnying."
"Brace!"
"Well?"
"We've come to the wrong village."
"Impossible. There was no other village for many miles," he whispered
angrily. "This is the place, and I saw them here. We'll follow the
houses round from the outside. Forward."
I followed him, and our previous experience was repeated, with the
difference that we kicked against a basket that had been dropped or
thrown away as worthless, and soon after, on leaving one of the houses
which was larger than those we had before examined, but as utterly
silent, there was a click which I took to be the cocking of a musket,
and imitated Brace's movement, for he stooped down, but rose again
sharply.
"Feel here," he whispered, as he let his sword hang from his wrist by
the knot, and pressed something into my hand. "What is this?"
"A cavalry sabre," I said directly, in an excited tone.
"Yes; one of ours. Now am I right, lad? They must be here, and we are
pretty close to their quarters. Can you hear the horses?"
I listened attentively, but there was not a sound, and once more we
proceeded till one of my feet went down. I stumbled and nearly fell.
"Hurt?" whispered Brace.
"No. I only stepped in a deep rut."
"Rut?" he said sharply; "where?"
He was down on his knees instantly, feeling with his hands, and I heard
him breathe hard.
"Yes, I am right," he whispered. "That rut was made by the wheels of
one of our guns; the cart-marks are distinct. No native cart would have
cut into the ground like that. Forward."
He stepped down with one foot in the crack, and, keeping it there,
walked slowly on, making it our guide, while I followed suit with
another rut, or series of ruts, a short distance from the first.
"Only to follow them," he whispered; "and they will lead us right to the
wasps' nest."
We went on easily enough now, and very cautiously, with the soil growing
softer and the ruts more deeply cut, as if several guns had passed along
our way. Then I stopped, and went down on one knee to feel the ground.
"What is it?"
"The hoof-marks. They are very deep here," I said excitedly, as my
fingers traced the deep impressions one after the other, and close
enough together for me to divine that many horses had passed.
"Well, yes," he said impatiently; "they are here, of course. I noticed
that some were crushed out by the wheel-tracks."
"Yes," I cried; "but we are going wrong; the hoof-marks are all coming
this way."