“Well, step out and maybe we’ll reach the barracks this night, unless this is a road that there isn’t any end to at all. What was that? Did you hear a noise?”
“I didn’t hear a thing,” said Shawn.
“I thought,” said another man, “that I heard something moving in the hedge at the side of the road.”
“That’s what I heard,” said the sergeant. “Maybe it was a weasel. I wish to the devil that we were out of this place where you can’t see as much as your own nose. Now did you hear it, Shawn?”
“I did so,” said Shawn; “there’s some one in the hedge, for a weasel would make a different kind of a noise if it made any at all.”
“Keep together, men,” said the sergeant, “and march on; if there’s anybody about they’ve no business with us.”
He had scarcely spoken when there came a sudden pattering of feet, and immediately the four men were surrounded and were being struck at on every side with sticks and hands and feet.
“Draw your batons,” the sergeant roared; “keep a good grip of that man, Shawn.”
“I will so,” said Shawn.
“Stand round him, you other men, and hit anything that comes near you.”