His heart beat fast as he heard the clank of arms and the
trampling; they came nearer, then the voices became more
distinct. He heard unmistakable evidence too that both bodies
were camping for the night, and that he was nearly surrounded.
Not knowing what move was best he kept quiet. The men were
talking aloud, then they began preparing their beds and he heard
some one say, "There's a hay-cock; bring some of that."
A soldier approached to get an armful of the hay, but sputtered
out a chapter of malediction as his bare hands touched the masses
of thistle and briers. His companions laughed at his mishap. He
went to the fire and vowed he'd stick a brand in it and back he
came with a burning stick.
Rolf was all ready to make a dash for his life as soon as the
cover should take fire, and he peered up into the soldier's face
as the latter blew on the brand; but the flame had died, the
thistles were not dry, and the fire was a failure; so, growling
again, the soldier threw down the smoking stick and went away. As
soon as he was safely afar, Rolf gathered a handful of soil and
covered the red embers.
It was a critical moment and his waiting alone had saved him.
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