From the mountain I saw about five hundred yards ahead two fires.

At each of the fires sat a soldier with his rifle and the others slept.

I did not want to fight with the Partisans but we had to do away with these outposts and that without firing or we never should get through the pass.

I did not believe the Partisans could afterwards track us because the whole trail was thickly marked with the spoors of horses and cattle.
"I shall take for my share these two," whispered my friend, pointing to the left outpost.
The rest of us were to take care of the second post.

I crept along through the bushes behind my friend in order to help him in case of need; but I am bound to admit that I was not at all worried about him.
He was about seven feet tall and so strong that, when a horse used to refuse sometimes to take the bit, he would wrap his arm around its neck, kick its forefeet out from under it and throw it so that he could easily bridle it on the ground.