"The sergeant will not rouse the men up till a quarter
to six, therefore no one is likely to come along until within a few
minutes of the hour. It's precious cold here, though the wall does
shelter us from the wind a bit; still it's not a lively job having to
wait here half an hour, with the thermometer somewhere below freezing
point."
The time passed slowly. Occasionally they exchanged a few words in low
tones, but as the time approached when they knew that the sergeant
would be going his rounds to call the men they spoke less.
"It must be nearly six o'clock now," Desmond said at last. "The men
would be called at a quarter to, so if any one is coming he will most
likely be here in a few minutes. Hush! I think I can hear footsteps."
A few seconds later they dimly saw a figure running toward them at
full speed. As it dashed up to the gate they sprang out and seized it.
There was a sharp frightened cry.
"Don't make a noise," Desmond said sternly, "or it will be the worse
for you. Where were you going?"
It was a girl of about twelve years old whom they had captured. She
was silent a moment.
"Sure, your honor," she said in a whimper, "I was doing no harm. I was
only running to tell Mike Brenan that his ould mother is taken bad
with the cramps, and wanted to see him bad."
"Where do you expect to go to, you little liar?" Desmond asked.
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