"How long shall we wait?"
"That's the problem! If we wait too long we shan't get back to-night, and that means hiding up all to-morrow. We can't possibly return in daylight. But it's no good talking. Let's make ourselves as comfortable as we can in the shade of this hedge. And for goodness' sake don't let me fall asleep."
"Not much chance of that if you feel like me. I couldn't sleep a wink, though I'm tired enough."
They sat down, took some chocolate from their tins, and prepared for their vigil. All was silent around them. There were no longer sounds of traffic; the roads had apparently diverged. The whole countryside lay peaceful under the silent stars.
Time went on. The air was cold. Now and then they got up and tramped to and fro to stir their chilled blood. Ten o'clock: eleven: no sound. Kenneth looked at his watch at ever shorter intervals. He was becoming restless. Had they adventured on a vain quest? The moon crept above the horizon, dimly illuminating the landscape, showing here a dark rounded mass that must be a wooded hill, there the white walls of a solitary farmhouse.
"There's no getting back to-night," thought Kenneth, as the light increased.
It was just past midnight. They were sitting side by side, silent, disappointed, depressed.
"Hark!" said Harry suddenly.
There was a low continuous rumble in the distance. It grew louder. They rose to their feet, and looked across the fields eastward. The ground stretched away in undulations, alternate dark and light bands in the moonshine. They could see nothing to explain the sound. It came from their right, increasing in volume as it approached, then diminishing as it passed away to the left, finally ceasing.
"Sounded like a railway truck," said Harry.