"Perhaps they imagine we are scared," he thought. "That will be all the better, for then they will hardly expect an attempt at escape. Ah, there the boys go again!"
Another spluttering volley burst from the trees behind him, while a second later Pepito's voice was heard resounding loudly through the forest, and undoubtedly intended for the ears of the enemy.
"Fire, fire!" he shouted. "The rascals are crawling near. Sweep them away! Shoot them down as they come!"
There was a note of terror in his voice, a note which Antonio Sarvisti distinguished with a snarl of pleasure.
"It is not to be all for one side," he said to his surly lieutenant, who forever hovered at his elbow. "They caught us nicely when we attacked, and we suffered in consequence; but the attempt has had its effect. Those fools over there have an attack of nerves. That sudden volley was fired by men who are scared, who see ghosts in the forest, who imagine sounds which have no existence, and who blaze away for no reason at all. Good for us, amico! Their ammunition will not last forever. We will do our best to give them many an alarm."
He sent a man round his following at once with orders that every now and again a few should creep forward a few paces, making as much noise as possible.
"That will draw their fire," he said with a chuckle. "That will empty their magazine and soon place them helplessly in our hands."
Meanwhile Dudley lay flat on his face, listening intently, and waiting patiently till the fusillade from behind him had died down. He could hear the click of the locks as the men reloaded, could discern Harold's voice as he directed their fire, and even caught the far-off murmur of men talking, for Antonio Sarvisti spoke aloud to his lieutenant. But, strain his ears as he would, there was no sound from in front of him, nothing to denote that an enemy was lurking there.
"Which seems to prove that they have cleared away," he said. "We have searched this part already with our fire, and the enemy will have learned to avoid it. I shall be surprised if I meet a single man. There, I think that will be Harold's last shot in this direction for a while, so that I can soon begin to move forward."
Ping! Crash! There was another flash behind him, proving that his comrades had not yet finished their portion of the plan. Bang! There came a second, quick on its heels, and then a shriek, a bloodcurdling shriek, which rang through the forest, seeming to be tossed backward and forward between the trees till it died down mournfully in the distance. It was the last frantic call of a man who had been hit, and the sound came from a point not fifteen yards in front of our hero.