“Listen first.”
They knelt there in the darkness, attent for some minutes.
“Don’t hear anything, sir. I’ll go and speak to the colonel. What did you fancy?”
“I—I don’t know,” faltered Cyril. “It must have been while I was asleep. Yes,” he whispered excitedly, “that was it.”
“The mules!” said the old soldier. “What are they doing here in camp?”
For there came plainly now the soft pattering of hoofs on the stony ground, and directly after a tall figure loomed up out of the darkness.
“Want me, sir?” said John Manning, in a quick whisper.
“As you are awake, yes. There is something stirring close at hand, whether wild beast or Indian I can’t say. Keep watch, and cover us while I get the mules into that cave.”
John Manning’s double gun was already in his hand, and he stood fast while the colonel went by with the leading mule, the others following. Then directly after the soft pattering ceased, and the watchers knew that the patient animals had been led right into the cave.
“Hear anything, Master Cyril?” whispered John Manning.