The soldiers bowed without answering, and quickly approached the horses.
Don Zeno looked round him as if he wished to fathom the darkness, and assure himself that no enemy was watching him; then, motioning Don Sylvio to go on before him:
"Come, gentlemen," he said; "let us go on."
The three then entered the wood, following the captain. Notwithstanding the increasing darkness, the latter found his way with a certainty which showed either that, like certain animals, he had the faculty of seeing in the dark, or that he had a thorough knowledge of the locality through which he was passing.
A quarter of an hour thus passed, during which the four men marched in Indian file—that is to say, following each other one by one—without exchanging a word. At the end of this time they began to perceive the reddish tints of several fires shining through the trees, which now became thicker.
"Halt! Who goes there?" suddenly cried a man.
"Zeno and liberty!" answered the captain, coldly.
"Pass!" said the sentinel, lowering his gun.
The travellers continued their journey. At about ten paces further on, a second sentinel stopped them, and then a third barred their passage at the moment when they reached the skirt of a large glade, in the midst of which was established a camp, which, by the number of fires lighted, appeared to be considerable. This sentinel, when he had exchanged the password with the captain, did not raise his gun as the others had done; he contented himself with turning half round.
"Officer of the guard!" he said; "Reconnoitre!"