They took their places in silence under cover of the darkness, and then waited in patience and suspense. They had agreed upon midnight as the hour.
Max, lying upon his face in the sand which still retained much of the warmth of the day, followed the hands of his watch, which he was just able to see in the starlight. Never had he known time pass more slowly. Even the second-hand seemed to crawl, and he was certain that the minute-hand never moved the thousandth part of an inch. And yet, at last the hour arrived. He knew that on the other side of the stockade both Crouch and his uncle were ready to advance. Rising softly to his feet he put his watch in his pocket.
On hands and knees he crawled forward to the ditch. He had decided not to encumber himself with a rifle. His revolver was loaded in his holster. He reached the ditch in safety, and there paused to listen. There was no sound within the fort. The night was still as the grave.
Summoning his courage he rose once more to his feet, and laid hold with both hands upon the sharpened points of the stakes which formed the enclosure. Then, taking in a deep breath, he sprang, swinging himself on high, and landed on his feet on the other side.
A second later he stood with his revolver in his hand, glancing in all directions, ready to fire at sight. It was then that he stood in momentary expectation of a swift and sudden death. However, no shot was fired.
Seeing that he had entered the stockade and was yet undiscovered, he hastened into the shade of the nearest hut, and there knelt down and waited.
For five minutes he never moved, and during that time he heard no one either on the banquette or among the huts. Then he thought of Crouch and his uncle. He imagined the suspense which they endured. He realized that they must believe he had died in silence under the knife. Presently, whether he fired or not, he knew that they would attempt to rush the gate.
It was, therefore, no longer necessary to remain undiscovered. It would aid their purpose better if some one saw him and he fired. His object was to create an alarm, to draw the attention of the garrison to himself, whilst Crouch and Edward, followed by the Fans, bore down upon the gate.
He stepped out from his hiding-place, and walked down the line of huts until he came to that which was Cæsar's. He looked in. It was deserted, though a candle burned low upon the table.
At that he placed a finger round the trigger of his revolver, and fired three shots in rapid succession into the ground. Then, standing in the doorway of the hut, he listened.