Neddy crawled a little forward, and put his own bullet head far
enough round the curve of the wall to see the meeting between the
garrison and its unexpected reinforcement.
Beaumaroy, hands in pockets, lounged nonchalantly down to the gate. He
opened it; the Captain entered. The two shook hands and stood there,
apparently in conversation. The words did not reach the ears of the
listeners, but the sound of voices did--voices hushed in tone. Once
Beaumaroy pointed to the house; both Mike and Neddy marked the
outstretched hand. Was Beaumaroy telling his companion about something
that had been happening at the house? Were they concocting a plan of
defense--or of attack? With the disappearance, perhaps the treachery, of
the Sergeant, and the appearance of this new ally for the garrison, the
prospects of a fight took on a very different look. Neddy might tackle
the big stranger with an equal chance. How would Mike fare in an
encounter with Beaumaroy? He did not relish the idea of it.
And, while they fought, the traitor Sergeant might be on their backs!
Or--on the other hypothesis--he might be getting off with the swag!
Neither alternative was satisfactory.
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