“A path!”
“Certainly. I can show you if you wish. You ought to be able to see to the north end of the pass—if I am not mistaken——”
“Wait a moment!” he said excitedly. “I want you to take me there—just a second, to speak to those officers—I’m coming back immediately——”
And he started on a run across the ravaged garden, holding his sabre close, midway, by the scabbard.
That was her chance. Picking up her faded sunbonnet, she stepped from the threshold, swinging it carelessly by one string. The sentries were looking after the major; she dropped her sunbonnet, stooped to recover it, and straightened up, the hidden hand grenade slipping from the crown of the bonnet into her bodice between her breasts.
A thousand eyes seemed watching her as, a trifle pale, she strolled on aimlessly, swinging the recovered sunbonnet; she listened, shivering, for the stern challenge to halt, the breathless shout of accusation, the pursuing trample of heavy boots. And at last, quaking in every limb, she ventured to lift her eyes. Nobody seemed to be looking her way; the artillery pickets were still watching the pass; the group of officers posted under the trees still focused their glasses in that direction; the young major was already returning across the garden toward her.
“She dropped her sunbonnet—stooped to recover it.”
A sharp throb of hope set her pulses bounding—she had, safe in her bosom, the means of warning her own people now; all she needed was a safe-conduct from that knoll, and here it was coming, brought by this eager, boyish officer, hastening so blithely toward her, his long, dark shadow clinging like death to his spurred heels as he ran.