The aide would be riding with him, of course, and
that would make me certain of my man when he came, although how I was
ever going to manage was more than I had as yet figured out.
I must have been there some twenty minutes, maybe more, burrowing down
into the mud under the lee of the stone, staring straight up the hill at
the fire. The post was relieved while I lay there, the fellows going off
duty tramping past so close I could have touched them. I could still
hear the tread of their feet when one of the new guard yelled out
"Halt!" and I saw two or three men spring up from around the fire,
while the corporal in command ran out into the middle of the road. Some
sort of a rig was coming down the hill, with a cavalry officer--judging
from his cape--riding along close beside it. I was not able to see very
plainly the way the light fell, but the contrivance looked to me like
one of those old-fashioned, two-wheeled carryalls, with a low top over
it, and drawn by a horse not much bigger than a pony. The officer dug in
his spurs and got ahead, leaning over to whisper to the corporal, who
stepped back saluting. The carryall never stopped at all, the pony
trotting along unconcernedly, and it was so dark beneath the top I could
not see sign of anybody.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25