He pointed into the east, in which direction the road ran, barely
revealed by the faint light of the moon for perhaps a hundred yards. I
looked eagerly, and could dimly distinguish a vague shadow on the summit
of a distant rise of land. The shadow moved, however, and as we both
stared in uncertainty, there came to our ears the far-off crack of a
whip. We drew farther back against the bank, pausing to make sure there
was no deception. One by one we could perceive those vague shadows
topping the rise and disappearing. I counted ten, convinced they were
covered wagons, and then the night wind brought to us the creaking of
wheels, and the sound of a man's voice. Duval's hand gripped my arm, and
to the signal we crept back beyond the crest, and then hurried down to
where Farrell had concealed his men. He was waiting us in the middle of
the road, his short broad figure almost laughable in the moon shadow.

"Well, are they coming?"

"Just over the crest," replied Duval brusquely. "I counted fifteen
wagons."

"Quite a convoy, an' worth fighting for. Take the left, Duval; Major,
come with me."

We drew aside under the protection of a boulder, from where we could see
clearly to the top of the ridge. Only for a moment was there silence, the
men all about us lying low in their coverts, breathless and intent. There
was a faint ripple of water to our rear where the stream ran, and a
rustle of leaves overhead in the slight breeze. A rabbit, or some stray
animal of the field, darted through the underbrush. Then we heard horses'
hoofs and the murmur of approaching voices.