“Ah!” he panted at last, as with strained eyes and ears he waited for some sign of his presence behind the advancing enemy being known. “Where’s that boy?” he muttered hoarsely; and he tried to look about without moving, so as not to expose himself to any who might be passing along the rocky ledge.
The next minute the necessity for caution was emphasised, for there was a hoarse command from somewhere above, followed by the heavy tramp of feet which told only too plainly that he was being cut off from his regiment by another body of the enemy.
“I couldn’t help it,” he said. “I couldn’t leave that poor fellow behind.”
He had hardly uttered this thought when, apparently from just beyond the rugged mass of stone which had checked his descent, there came a low groan, followed by a few words, amongst which the listener made out, “The cowards!”
“That you, Punch?” whispered the young rifleman excitedly.
“Eh, who’s that?” was the faint reply.
“Hist! Lie still. I’ll try and get to you directly.”
“That you, Private Gray?”
“Yes, yes,” was whispered back, and the speaker felt his heart leap within his breast; “but lie still for a few moments.”
“Oh, do come! I’m—I’ve got it bad.”