“Some on ’em crawling about on the stones outside yonder. I heered ’em, and if they don’t keep off—I don’t want to shoot no one, had enough of it when I was out in Indy, sir; but duty’s duty, and if they won’t leave us alone, they must be taught how. See anything o’ the lantern now?”
“No; it has gone out of sight some time.”
“Humph! I hope they won’t go too far and lose theirselves, sir, because they can’t be spared. I knowed of a man losing himself in a stone quarry once under ground, but they found him afterwards.”
“Half-starved?” said Cyril eagerly.
“Quite, sir. It was a year after he went down. I don’t like work under ground. It’s only fit for rats or worms. See the light now?”
“No: what’s that?”
“Something moving inside, sir.”
“The mules?”
“No, sir; their hoofs are not so soft as that. Sounds to me as if some of ’em was going to make a rush, and we haven’t a bay’net to bless ourselves with. You fire, sir, at once before they come on.”
Cyril did not hesitate, but without shouldering his piece, he drew trigger with the result that they heard, mingled with the reverberations of the report, a faint pattering noise as of retreating feet.