“But you don’t think, sir, that I shall succeed, and this is a friendly good-bye,” said Gray, smiling.
“Well I—that is—I—’pon my word, Gray, you just hit what I was thinking about. You see I had such a narrow escape of it myself, that I couldn’t help thinking of something of the kind.”
“You tried it openly, sir; I’m going to try and steal a march upon the Malays.”
“What, are you going over here?” said the ensign.
“Yes, sir, and there’s a good opening now,” said Gray, after a sharp look round. “Good-bye, sir; wish me luck.”
As he spoke he glided as it were over the edge of the earthwork, and let himself roll into the ditch, whence he made his way to the edge on the other side, Ensign Long bidding the two nearest men cover the messenger with their rifles as long as he was in sight.
That was not for long, Gray crawling rapidly over the ground; and as those who watched scanned every shrub and tree for an enemy, they saw him reach the edge of the jungle and disappear.
It was into no haven of safety though that Gray had passed, for he had not gone twenty yards into the shadowy gloom, which was comparatively cool after the scorching sunshine in the opening that had been cleared of trees, before he heard voices on his left, and he had barely time to crouch down among the long grass before half-a-dozen Malays came along, one of whom saw the pressed down undergrowth and began to examine it curiously.
Another moment and he would have seen Gray, whose hand was thrust into his breast, but a word from one of his companions took off his attention, and he disappeared with them amongst the trees.
Gray drew a long breath as he once more started off, creeping on all fours, and at times crawling, so as to make sure of being unseen.