“I don’t know, sir,” replied the old soldier. “That’s the puzzle of it. But the colonel knows what he means to do, of course. I’ve been with him before, when he was going to make an advance.”
“But this is a retreat,” said Cyril sharply.
“What, sir? Retreat? British soldiers don’t retreat. Of course they have to make an advance the other way on sometimes. You can’t always be going in one direction; but they don’t retreat. It’ll be all right, though, sir. You’ll see: for following orders, I’ve got all the packs ready to stow on the saddles at a moment’s notice, and we shan’t leave nothing behind.”
They had a hint soon after of there being a plan all ready, for the colonel came and hunted Cyril out to act as interpreter, and walked down with him to where Diego and his companion were seated, while the mules were browsing here and there, some fifty yards away.
“Now, interpret as well as you can,” said the colonel. “Tell him that I am very angry about the state of the mules, which look half-starved. The feed about here is disgraceful, and all the time there is a splendid supply on the other side of the clearing, beyond where the Indians are cutting and stacking the bark.”
Cyril’s voice shook a little from anxiety as he began his interpretation, but it soon grew stronger, and he gave the colonel’s wishes with so much energy that the guide looked terribly disturbed as he replied.
“What does he say?” cried the colonel angrily.
“That the head-man of the kina gatherers gave orders that they were to be pastured here.”
“Then tell him to go to the head-man, and say I order them to be moved at once over to the other side of the huts, ready for me when I wish to go on.”
Diego started off at once, and returned soon after with the head-man and about a dozen of the Indians, to whom the colonel’s wishes were repeated; and then came quite a deprecating reply that it was impossible, for the woodcutters were going in that direction the very next day, and the mules would be disturbed again.