“I have proposed it, and intended to do it,” said Colonel Wrayford; “but it has been impossible. The enemy has kept us too thoroughly upon the qui vive.”
“Well, there will be an opportunity now,” said Colonel Graves as he stepped up on to an open place on the wall and began to sweep the mountain-slopes with his glass.
“See anything of them?” asked Colonel Wrayford.
“Nothing. Are they well in hiding?”
“Possibly. I do not understand our not having had a visit from them before now. We generally have their white-coats streaming down those ravines in two parties. It looks as if your coming had scared them away.”
“That’s too good to expect,” said Colonel Graves, laughing. “They’ll come, sure enough, and when least expected, no doubt. So much the better, so that we can give them a good lesson to teach them to behave with respect towards Her Majesty’s forces, for this place is to be held at all hazard.”
“Yes; of course,” said Colonel Wrayford rather bitterly. “Well, it has been held.”
“And bravely,” said Colonel Graves, bowing, with a show of deference, towards his senior.
“Thank you,” said the latter simply. “We have done our best.”
He turned away, to begin using his glass, sweeping the different ravines—dark, savage-looking gorges which disembogued upon the smiling, garden-like expanse on both sides of the river, and seeming strangely in contrast, with their stony sides, to the tree-besprinkled verdure and lovely groves of the little plain not more than a mile long by half that space wide.