By this time the young officers were on the farther side of the stream, below the falls, with it between them and the men they wished to turn back and take with them to the fort.
“What do you propose doing now?” asked Drummond.
“I’ll show you,” replied Roberts, and, parting the underwood, he threaded his way till he was close to the deep gully down which the water from the falls raced; and then selecting the most open spot he could, he placed his whistle to his lips and blew. The rallying whistle rose up the mountain-slope towards the falls, like the note of some wild bird startled from its lair among the moist depths of the gully.
To their great delight, the call had instant effect; for, unwittingly, they had made their way to where they halted just level with the party of their men who were not forty yards away. Consequently, before the note had died away the voice of Gedge was plainly heard.
“I say, boys,” he cried, “that’s a whistle.”
“Nobody said it was a bugle,” was the laughing reply.
“But it means cease firing,” said Gedge.
“That it don’t, stoopid, for no one’s shooting. Get out! Only some kind o’ foreign bird.”
“I don’t care; it is,” cried Gedge. “Way ho! Any one there?”
“Yes, my lads,” cried Roberts; “make for the fort at once. Follow the stream down to the river, and join us there. Quick! Danger!”