As he was moving round a little to ease his position, his hand rested on a stone of considerable size. This might come in handy, he thought, so he rolled it towards him.
The men, after another drink or two, turned quiet. They seemed to doze. But they had drawn their rifles quite close up to their knees in readiness.
Presently they appeared to be talking Russian through their noses. Jack allowed them to snore for fully ten minutes. Then he slowly arose.
The fire had burned rather low. The stars away in the west burned very brightly, but the moon cast no shadow. Clutching the big stone, and making sure his dirk and revolver were handy, Jack stalked out into the open, listening like a thief at every step.
He could have brained the sergeant with the stone he carried, but he had no wish to do that.
Nearer and nearer!
He was just about to pick up the wallet, when one man awoke with a growl like that of a wolf.
There was no more time for ceremony.
Jack imitated the Highland slogan, and with all his might he dashed the stone into the dying embers. Dust and fire flew in all directions.
Jack flew also.