was a small party as broke off, or was sent off,
from the main body to reconnoitre the bit o' bush, an' had rejoined the
main body further on. That's what I call circumwentin', d'ee see?"

While this palaver was going on, Stevenson and Bill Simkin were standing
a short way off taking observation of something in the far distance. In
a few minutes they ran towards their comrades with the information that
a band of men were visible on the horizon, moving, they thought, in an
opposite direction to their line of march.

"It may be so," said Miles, after a brief survey, "but we can't be sure.
We must put part of your plan in force anyhow, Jack Molloy. Away into
the scrub all of you, and stoop as you go."

In saying this, our hero, almost unintentionally, took command of the
little party, which at once tacitly accorded him the position. Leading
them--as every leader ought--he proceeded to the centre of the clump of
bushes, where, finding a natural hollow or hole in the sand, at the root
of a mimosa bush, three of them went down on hands and knees to scoop it
out deeper, while the others cut branches with Molloy's clasp-knife.

Using flat stones, chips of wood, and hands as shovels, they managed to
dig out a hole big enough to conceal them all, the opening to which was
easily covered by a mass of branches.

It is doubtful whether this ingenious contrivance would have availed
them, if "men of the desert" had passed that way, but fortune favoured
them. The band, whether friends or foes, passed far off to the
westward, leaving them to enjoy their place of fancied security.

To pass the first day there was not difficult. The novelty of the
position was great; the interest of the thing immense. Indefinite hopes
of the future were strong, and they had plenty to say and speculate
about during the passing hours. When night came, preparation was made
for departure. The provision bags were slung, a moderate sip of water
indulged in, and they set forth, after a very brief prayer by Stevenson,
that God would guide them safely on their way. There was no formality
in that prayer. The marine did not ask his comrades to kneel or to
agree with him. He offered it aloud, in a few seconds, in the name of
Jesus, leaving his hearers to join him or not as they pleased.

"See that you lay your course fair now, Molloy," said Miles, as they
sallied out upon the darkening plain.

"Trust me, lad, I've taken my bearin's."

It was very