Gedge did not move a muscle, but stood as upright as the rifle at his side, and looking as inanimate, but quite as dangerous, while his two officers said a few words in a low tone. The next moment Roberts went out of the room, and Bracy turned to the lad.
“We have to carry everything ourselves, and we must take all we can without overloading, my lad, for we shall have to climb a great deal amongst the snow. Now, mind this: we have just three-quarters of an hour for preparation. Then we must pass out of the gate.”
Gedge did not move, but stood as if carved out of a block of hardened putty by the hand of an artistic drill-sergeant; listening, though, with his ears, which looked preternaturally large from the closeness of the regimental barber’s efforts, and seeming to gape. Then he left his rifle in a corner, and was off.
The result was that, with five minutes to spare, officer and man, strangely transformed by their thick, woolly overcoats, stood ready in that room. Haversacks of provisions hung from their broad leather bands; revolvers balanced dagger-bay’nets from their belts; as much ammunition as they could carry was in their pockets, and necessary odds and ends were bestowed in satchels.
“All ready?” said Roberts at last.
“All ready. Nothing forgotten that I can think of.”
“Then you will start at once. I have warned the men that you are to be allowed to slip out quietly, or they would have cheered you.”
“Thanks,” said Bracy.—“You hear that, Gedge?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You will follow me without a word.”