“Yes, I heard that,” said Roy; “it was a horse champing his bit; and there again, that must have been the jingle of a spur.”
“Right, sir, right. You’ll hear plenty of that sort of thing if you keep on listening. There, hear that?”
“Yes, plainly. A horse stumbled and plunged to save itself.”
“Enough to make it,” said Ben, gruffly; “going to sleep, and him on it jigged the spurs into its flanks to rouse it up. There, you can hear ’em on the move again, going to and fro.”
“Yes, quite plainly,” whispered Roy; “why, they must have come in much nearer.”
“No, sir. Everything’s so quiet that the sounds seem close. They won’t come in nigher for fear of a shot.”
“But they must know we could not see them.”
“Not yet, sir; but the moon’ll be up in a couple of hours, and they know it’ll rise before long, and won’t run any risks after what they’ve seen of my gunners—I mean your—sir. Ah! it’s a bad job about those ten poor lads. They would have been able to shoot. Master Raynes is in a fine taking about ’em.”
“Can’t be helped, Ben; we must do our best without them.”
“Ay, sir, we must, even if it’s bad.”