“Yes; it looks so.”
“But we don’t trust ’em, bless yer, sir. That’s their artfulness; foxing—that’s what they’re doing. Won’t be able to see ’em much longer—will you, sir?”
“No; it’s getting dark very fast; but I can make them out, I dare say, till they begin to move.”
“Hope you will, sir,” said Gedge softly, and lying with his knees bent, kicking his feet about in the air, after the fashion of a boy in a field on a sunny day, and looking quite unconscious of the fact that this night might be one of the most terrible they had ever been called upon to pass.
Some minutes elapsed now in perfect silence, during which a fiery look on the topmost peak of one of the mountains died out slowly into cherry red, and finally became invisible, a few stars twinkling out as the red light died.
“Gedge,” said Bracy in a quick whisper, such as he might have uttered had the enemy been close upon them, and about to spring, instead of many hundred yards away.
“Sir?”
“They are on the move.”
“Can’t see ’em, sir.”
“No; and they cannot see us, but I can dimly make them out with the glass. They are separating from their centre, and coming on. Ha! gone. I can see no more.”