“Stuff!” said Hilary. “Forward. Why, what are you thinking about, man? That’s where I was shut up night after night.”
“And did you see ’em, sir?”
“See what?” replied Hilary.
“Them there as yon chap talked about, sir.”
“I saw a good many very substantial smugglers, and I saw a cellar full of kegs and packages, and those are what we are going to get.”
Tom Tully seemed a bit reassured, and tightening his belt a little, he kept step with the others, as Hilary led the way right across country, so as to come out of the wood suddenly after a curve, just in front of the entrance to the narrow bridge over the moat.
Hilary managed well, and his men following him in single file, he led them so that, apparently unseen by the occupants of the old hall, they were at last gathered together in the clump of trees, waiting the order to advance.
The moat, as Hilary knew, was too deep to think of wading, and there was the old bridge quite clear, temptingly offering itself as a way to the front of the old house; but this tempting appearance rather repelled the young officer. He was no coward, but he was good leader enough to shrink from subjecting his men to unnecessary risk.
The smugglers would be, under the present circumstances, as desperate as rats in a corner; and as they would certainly expect an attack through his escape, and the events of the past night, it was not likely that they would have neglected to protect the one entrance to their stronghold.
“I say, wot are we awaiting for?” growled Tom Tully.