And all the time the feeling of dread I felt was horrible, and worse than all was that the feeling grew.
Brace caught my hand and wrung it.
“Well done!” he said in a low voice. “I can see. I know the sensation; but that’s the way. Fight it down.”
“I’m trying,” I said, huskily; “but I wish I was not such a coward.”
“I don’t, Gil,” he said, smiling, “There, now we have a horrible task before us to wait nearly an hour. Dobbs, follow us with the horses, and keep about twenty yards behind.”
He advanced to the three noble beasts, and began to examine their bridles, and then tightened their girths himself, before saying shortly, “Now forward,” and, carrying the scabbard of his sword, he led the way once more to the edge of the wood, where, after taking care that we were carefully screened, he swept the plain with his eyes, and then took out his glass.
“Yes, that will do,” he said to the trumpeter, who had stopped with the bridles of the horses in his hands and a look of eager excitement in his eyes, as he evidently anticipated riding that day instead of a long weary tramp.
Brace used his glass and watched the town, making comments to me from time to time.
“All very quiet,” he said. “Our lads must have an hour, for they may find the tangle very hard to get through.”
There was a long pause, during which he was almost constantly watching the place with his glass. And how that scene is imprinted in my mind; the beautiful fringe of green trees, where we stood in the shade, and before us the broad plain bright in the fresh morning sunshine, and wreaths of mist still floating over it, but being rapidly dispelled by the sun, though the distance still looked hazy and of a delicious blue. There on the right was the village or town, dotted with the figures of the white-robed Hindus, whose arms flashed now and then, as they moved here and there.