I nodded.
That part of the way which was visible in front had the appearance of a muddy cataract, through which we must force a path.
Then, as abruptly as it had commenced, the rain ceased; and at almost the same moment came an angry cry from behind.
The canvas hood made it impossible to see clearly in the car, but, turning quickly, I perceived Kennedy, with his cap off, rubbing his close-cropped skull. He was cursing volubly.
"What is it, Kennedy?
"Somebody sniping!" cried the man. "Lucky for me I had my cap on!"
"Eh, sniping?" said Barton, glancing over his shoulder. "What d'you mean? A stone, was it?"
"No, sir," answered Kennedy. "I don't know what it was—but it wasn't a stone."
"Hurt much?" I asked.
"No, sir! nothing at all." But there was a note of fear in the man's voice—fear of the unknown.