It was clear that
the young man's courage had failed him, and, with grey head erect,
elbows working like the sails of a windmill, and the ends of the
nightgown streaming behind him, the sergeant-major bent his steps
towards home.
He dropped into a walk after a time and looked carefully over his
shoulder. So far as he could see he was alone, but the silence and
loneliness were oppressive. He looked again, and, without stopping to
inquire whether his eyes had deceived him, broke into a run again.
Alternately walking and running, he got back to the town, and walked
swiftly along the streets to his house. Police-Constable Burgess, who
was approaching from the other direction, reached it at almost the same
moment, and, turning on his lantern, stood gaping with astonishment.
"Anything wrong?" he demanded.
"Wrong?" panted the sergeant-major, trying to put a little surprise and
dignity into his voice. "No."
"I thought it was a lady walking in her sleep at first," said the
constable. "A tall lady."
The sergeant-major suddenly became conscious of the nightgown. "I've
been--for a little walk," he said, still breathing hard.
Pages:
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139