“Yes, quite that; but, my word!” cried my companion, “they’re going it now. They’re firing shots enough to bring down every one of our rear-guard.”
“Yes; and it will be our turn again directly, when they trot on.”
“They ought to be here by now,” continued my new comrade. “I don’t believe they’ll come.”
“Why?” I said anxiously.
“They’ll all be shot down.”
“Nonsense,” I said. “Listen; those are their rifles replying.”
“I suppose so,” was the reply, given thoughtfully. “But what a strange echo the hills give back here!”
“Yes,” I said. “That’s why it’s called Echo Nek.”
“I suppose so; but—but— Here, I say, those are not echoes we can hear now.”
“Nonsense! What can they be, then?”