“They look as if they were sorry that we have come back safely.”
“Or as if some of them wanted to give us a warmer welcome, only they feel afraid.”
“That’s about what it is,” said Wyatt. “They are afraid. I hope nothing has gone wrong in barracks.”
His hope was satisfied, for the gates were close shut, and the guard ready to challenge them before admittance was given, Sergeant Stubbs, left in command, having nothing more to report than the fact that a large body of armed men had been hanging about the place.
“Just as if they were waiting to hear how things were going, gentlemen. And, between ourselves, I can’t help thinking that if you had been worsted they would have attacked us. Not that they would have had much satisfaction out of that.”
“What do you mean, Stubbs!” asked Wyatt.
The man shook his head.
“They’d have been too much for us, of course, sir,” he said; “and we should have been done. But I’d got a plan ready for them in the shape of the ammunition.”
“What were you going to do?” asked Dick.
“Only going to put a lighted linstock to the end of a train leading to a big powder-bag in the ammunition-wagon, sir. Pity, I thought, to let our friends have that. They don’t understand our cartridges, and might have burned their fingers.”