“Why, he’s making quite a show of it,” growled Serge, “and the little army looks as if it were slowly going into action just for us to see.”
“Yes,” said Marcus, eagerly, “but look out yonder too. The enemy are advancing. They are gradually coming down that deep little valley, trickling like a stream.”
“To be sure they are,” said Serge, “and they are doing the same over yonder too.”
“Well, doesn’t that mean that they are going to attack at once?”
“No, boy; I fancy it only means to close us in and sweep us before them right up into the narrow of the pass again. They are beginning to take it.”
“Take what?”
“Take what? Why, what our general means. I am not going to call him a captain any more. He’s acting like a general, and a good one too. The enemy don’t mean to attack—not yet, because you see they have got no head man to make a big plan for them all to work together. You see, they are all little bodies and tribes and bits of tribes, each under its own leader, and everyone thinks himself a general and acts just as he likes, and that’s where they often get in a muddle, good fighters as they are. Look at them now. There’s another lot yonder going slowly down from that hill into the hollow and coming creeping towards us.”
“Yes, and right away from that opposite hill there’s another tribe coming down,” cried Marcus, whose voice was husky with excitement.
“That’s right,” growled Serge, “and don’t you see, not one lot has moved towards the upper pass. Why have they left that way open?”
“I don’t know,” said Marcus. “Perhaps some of the enemy will move towards it soon.”