“You can have another snooze till I come back.”
“Thank you; but I am going along with you.”
Quite willing to accept his companionship, Poole led the way slowly and cautiously; but at the end of a few yards he stopped short.
“What’s the matter?” whispered Fitz.
“Nothing yet; but I was just thinking. Is there any password?”
“I dunno,” whispered Fitz.
“I didn’t ask father, and it would be rather awkward if we were challenged and shot at.”
“Oh, there’s no fear of that. You’d know by the voice which of the men it was who spoke, and he’d know yours when you answered.”
“To be sure. False alarm. Come on.” It seemed darker than ever as they went forward on what seemed to be the track, but proved to be off it, for all at once as they were going cautiously on, literally feeling their way, Poole caught his foot against a stump and nearly fell headlong.
“Bother!” he ejaculated loudly, to add to the noise he made, and instantly a gruff voice from their right growled out, “Who goes there?” accompanying the question with a clicking of a rifle-lock. “Friends,” cried Fitz sharply. “The word.”