The men were at once set to work to meet any attack which might be made.
They knew that the message was of grave import, but not of how grave.
They thought it meant that another attack would be made immediately,
and they sprang to their work with renewed vigor, and a zeal as fresh
as if it were but the beginning and not the end.
The time wore on, however, and there was no demonstration below,
though hour after hour it was expected and even hoped for.
Just as the sun sank into a bed of blue cloud a horseman was seen
coming up the darkened mountain from the eastward side, and in a little while
practised eyes reported him one of their own men -- the sergeant
who had been sent back the day before for ammunition. He was alone,
and had something white before him on his horse -- it could not be
the ammunition; but perhaps that might be coming on behind.
Every step of his jaded horse was anxiously watched. As he drew near,
the lieutenant, after a word with the Colonel, walked down to meet him,
and there was a short colloquy in the muddy road; then they came back together
and slowly entered the camp, the sergeant handing down a bag of corn
which he had got somewhere below, with the grim remark to his comrades,
"There's your rations," and going at once to the Colonel's camp-fire,
a little to one side among the trees, where the Colonel awaited him.
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