_Went_ for us." "How many ?" "Six or seven." Cossar led the way to the edge of the pine-wood and halted.
"D'yer mean they _got_ Flack ?" asked some one.
"One of 'em was on to him." "Didn't you shoot ?" "How _could_ I ?" "Every one loaded ?" said Cossar over his shoulder.
There was a confirmatory movement.
"But Flack--" said one.
"D'yer mean--Flack--" said another.
"There's no time to lose," said Cossar, and shouted "Flack!" as he led the way.

The whole force advanced towards the rat-holes, the man who had run away a little to the rear.

They went forward through the rank exaggerated weeds and skirted the body of the second dead rat.

They were extended in a bunchy line, each man with his gun pointing forward, and they peered about them in the clear moonlight for some crumpled, ominous shape, some crouching form.

They found the gun of the man who had run away very speedily.
"Flack!" cried Cossar.