“No, sahib; they brought the guns over the bridge, and some say they have gone to Ramul.”
“That is only a few miles away,” said Brace, quickly, “and beyond the hills. Forward, my lads. No speaking in the ranks.”
We tramped on silently for a couple of hours with the night growing darker as we went onward, the men literally reeling at times from weariness and exhaustion after the terrible day.
All at once, one man fell out, and dropped upon the road side.
“Halt!” cried Brace, in a low voice.
“No, no, captain; keep on,” said the man. “I’m dead beat. Never mind me.”
“We have no dhooly, my lad, to carry you, so we must wait till you can walk, for we must hold together now to the last. Who is it?”
“Sergeant Craig, sir,” said one of the men; and Brace hurried to his side.
“Why, Craig, my poor fellow, this will not do.”
As he spoke, the man who had thrown himself on the ground struggled to his knees.