CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
"IL FAUT MANGER." I felt dizzy, and every movement was painful when I arose.

The air was so cold that I was half-numbed; and in addition to my bruised side I ached from the tightness of my belts, and my sword-hilt and revolver seemed to have made great dents into my flesh.

However, with an effort I lifted my rifle, which had been my bedfellow on the sandy earth, and hurriedly joined the others in making good the defence of the great gateway, with its newly-made protecting screen of stones.
There was no desperate encounter, however, to send the blood rushing through our veins; for, as we reached the entrance, we heard the men on duty removing stones while they carried on a desultory conversation with the new arrivals; and directly afterwards a thrill of joy ran through me, and a curious choking sensation rose in my throat, for somewhere in front where it was darkest I heard the Major say: "That's grand news, Denham--thirty of you, and forty horses ?" Then his voice was drowned in the loud, spontaneous cheer which rose from those about me, in which at the moment I felt too weak to join.
"Here, get in, all of you," cried the Major as soon as he could make himself heard.

"You're sure there is no pursuit ?" "Quite," came in Denham's familiar voice.

"We have had a very long round since we wore cut off, and have not heard a soul as we came through the darkness." "How about wounds ?" said the Major.
"Pretty tidy, sir," said Denham.