"Oh, well, that would account for anything," said Royce with a smile. "At any rate, I can think of no other explanation than the one I have suggested."
"You may be right," said Challis; "but I can't help thinking there is some other reason which we know nothing about. Time will show, perhaps."
As after events proved, Challis's guess was nearer the truth than his friend's.
During the remainder of the day there was no further attack, and Royce took advantage of the enemy's inactivity to carry out his idea of strengthening the defences. He set all the men except those on sentry duty to fill up the gaps in the broken walls, partly with earth, partly with fragments of brick and stone from the interior of the building. Fortunately, the bastions at the four corners of the fort were in good preservation, being constructed of stone. These would prove useful for enfilading fire, if the enemy should make a really determined assault.
At nightfall it occurred to Challis that they might make another attempt to get water.
"We could steal down in the dark without being seen," he said. "Besides, I've read somewhere that the negro races don't care about fighting by night. They're as much afraid of the dark as any little nervous kid—as I used to be myself ages ago."
"You don't mean it!" said Royce chaffingly.
"It's true, though. I used to lie awake for hours, fancying all sorts of hideous creatures were floating about the room, and cowering under the bedclothes in sheer terror. So much so that they gave me a light at last—and then it was worse!"
"How was that?"
"Why, they gave me one of those wretched little paraffin lamps with a very small round wick, and it used to smoke horribly and fill the room, and the smell and stuffiness caused the most dreadful nightmares—at least, that's what my mother said."