“What is going on now?” said Bracy. “Why, they’re shaking hands with Colonel Wrayford, English fashion. Surely he is not going to trust them?”
“Seems as if he is,” replied Roberts softly as the young men stood gazing down at the party below. “Perhaps he knows the native character better than we do, and thinks it’s all right.”
“Well, I don’t,” said Bracy shortly, “young as I am. Those fellows have come as spies, and I’m more and more convinced that they are the set who harassed us as we came.”
“I begin to think you are right, old man,” said Roberts.
“Well, of all—That scoundrel is going to offer to shake hands with Graves!”
“No, he isn’t,” replied Roberts softly. “Doesn’t like the look of the old man’s eyes. Made a sort of shy at him. Now they’re off, after picking up all that they could about our strength and position. Well, it isn’t right, perhaps, for us to pull our superior’s actions to pieces; but I don’t think Wrayford is right.”
“And Graves seems to think as you do,” said Bracy thoughtfully as he watched the departure of the chiefs. “Look! those fellows are not missing much with their rolling eyes. I wonder what they think of our lads. The poor fellows don’t show up very well against these stout hill-men.”
“They showed up well enough yesterday,” said Roberts tartly. “Pooh! What has size got to do with it? Well, I’m glad they’ve gone; but I should like to know what they are saying to one another.”
“Talking about the strength of the gates, you may depend, and whether this would be a good place to make their first attack when they come to put the garrison to the sword,” said Bracy slowly.
“Well, you are a cheerful sort of a fellow for a companion,” said Roberts, laughing.