The building had been empty over-night: no one (it was reasonable to
suppose) had entered the enclosure during Billy's sentry-go; no one
for a certainty had entered it since. Nevertheless, the fancy that
eyes might be watching me from within the church began now to worry,
and within five minutes had almost worried me into leaving my post to
explore.
I repressed the impulse. I could not carry my stand of muskets with
me, and to leave it unguarded would be the starkest folly. Also I
had sworn to myself to keep watch on the gateway towards the forest,
and this resolution must obviously be broken if I explored the
church. I kept my seat, telling myself that, however the others had
vanished, they had vanished in silence, and therefore all danger from
gunshot might be ruled out of the reckoning.
I had scarcely calmed myself by these reflections when a noise at
some distance up the glade fetched my musket halfway to my shoulder.
I lowered it with a short laugh of relief as our friends the hogs
came trotting downhill to the gateway.
For the moment I was glad; on second thoughts, vexed.
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