Peter felt the blind hand groping in the dark, and was wide awake in an
instant. He hurled himself at the intruder, as well as a man could who
had been lying back against the wall half asleep a moment before; and
Gard turned and sped away along the side of the ridge, with Peter at his
heels and John Drillot thundering ponderously in the rear.
"What is't, Peter boy?" shouted John.
"It's him. This way!" yelled Peter, out of the dimness in front, as he
stumbled and staggered along the ragged inadequacies of the ridge.
If Gard had had time for consideration, he would have led them a chase
elsewhere first, but, in the sudden upsetting of lighting on what he had
persuaded himself was not there, he lost his head and made straight for
cover.
Peter Vaudin was at the base of the rock wall as he wriggled silently
under the big slab, and it was only by a violent jerk that he got his
foot clear of Peter's grip. And Peter, strung to the occasion, kept his
hand on the spot where the foot had disappeared, and waited a moment for
John Drillot to come up before he followed it.
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