“Lead on,” said the officer shortly. “It’s the best thing for us now. Forward, my lads. You, Mr Murray, keep alongside of me. We’ll bring up the rear.”
The retreat began, with the midshipman nowise happy in his own mind, for he could not help feeling that after all they might be marching into fresh difficulties instead of towards safety; but before long, as they tramped on over the heated ashes, suffering badly, for they began to inhale more and more the heated dust thrown up by their men’s feet, they had something else to think of, for Murray suddenly caught hold of his officer’s arm to check him.
“Don’t, do that, my lad,” came in response. “It’s as dark as can be, and if we are left behind we shall be worse off than ever.”
“Yes, sir,” whispered the midshipman; “but listen.”
“I am listening, Mr Murray, and I can hear the crackling of the men’s shoes as they trample up the burning embers. That’s what you hear.”
“Yes, sir, but something more.”
“Eh? What?”
“Listen again, sir. Just stop for a moment.”
The officer stopped short on the instant, and then caught the lad by the arm.
“Forward,” he whispered, “and keep step with me. Close up to the men, and we’ll halt, fall into line, give the brutes time to get within throwing distance for their spears, and then give them a volley. You are quite right, Mr Murray. Your ears are sharper than mine. We are followed, my lad, and if we hear their footsteps cease we must dash forward to put our movement into effect, for they will have halted to throw their weapons.—Yes, they are creeping after us quite fast now.”