While
they were doing this he went from house to house to see that none
of the party were lurking there. At the door of the last house of
the village three women were standing.
"Are any of the soldiers here?" he asked.
The women gave him an unintelligible answer in the country patois,
and passing between them he entered the cottage. On the table stood
a large jug of water, and lifting it he took a long draught. There
was a sudden crash, and he fell heavily, struck down from behind
with a heavy mallet by one of the women. He was stunned by the
blow, and when he recovered his senses he found that he was bound
hand and foot, a cloth had been stuffed tightly into his mouth,
and he was covered thickly with a heap of straw and rubbish. He
struggled desperately to free himself, but so tightly were the
cords bound that they did not give in the slightest.
A cold perspiration broke out on his forehead as he reflected that
he was helpless in the power of these savage peasants, and that
he should probably be put to death by torture. Presently he could
hear the shouts of his men, who, on finding that he did not return,
had scattered through the village in search of him. He heard the
voice of his sergeant.
"These old hags say they saw an officer walk across to the left.
The captain may have meant us to march the prisoners at once to the
column, and be waiting just outside the village for us, but it is
not likely.
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