As there were numbers of fields in the neighbourhood they soon returned with an armful of maize each. Dried weeds and sticks were then collected, and after repeated failures a light was at last obtained, and soon the grain was roasted. A jacket was stretched across the entrance of their den so that, should anyone be passing near, they would not observe the light.
“Now,” Will said as they munched some maize the next evening, “we must start foraging. We will go in opposite directions, and each must take his bearing accurately or we’ll never come together again.”
They were out for some hours, and when they returned it was found that Will had come across four fowls, Tom had gathered a variety of fruit, consisting chiefly of melons and peaches, while Dimchurch, who was the last to come in, brought a small sheep.
“We only want one thing to make us perfect,” Will said, “and that is a pipe of ’bacca.”
“Well, that would be a welcome addition,” Tom admitted, “but it does not do to expect too much. I should not be at all surprised if we were to light upon some tobacco plants in one of the gardens, but of course it could hardly be like a properly dried leaf. I dare say, though, we could make something of it.”
So they lived for a month, sometimes better, sometimes worse, but with sufficient food of one sort or another. So far as they knew no suspicion of their presence had been excited, though their petty robberies must have been noticed. One evening, however, Will, on going to the top of the sand-hill, as he generally did, saw a large detachment of soldiers coming along, searching the ground carefully. He ran down at once to his companions.
“Take your weapons, lads,” he said, “and make off; a strong party of soldiers are searching the country, and they are coming this way. No doubt they are looking for us.”
They had run but a few hundred yards when they heard shouts, and, looking round, they saw a Moorish officer waving his hands and gesticulating. This was alarming, but they reckoned that they had fully five hundred yards start.
“Keep up a steady pace,” Will said; “I don’t expect the beggars can run faster than we can. It will be pitch dark in half an hour, and as, fortunately, there is no moon, I expect we’ll be able to give them the slip.”
As they advanced they found that the vegetation became scarcer and scarcer.