From above, it sounded as if a drunken riot had broken out, in which the outpost's warning shout became only a meaningless discord. The babel brought the four sleeping men out of their blankets. They listened a moment, then stepped out in view of the posse in the briars. As Brunner came up, old man Thomas turned to face him.
At one time he would read the love-letter first; then that of the arch-plotter. Again, he would change the order of perusal, and test the different sensations the bitter after the sweet, the sweet after the bitter. Suddenly, through the silence of the night, he heard the distant tinkle of a mule-bell. It came nearer and nearer. He heard the outpost's "Halt!
"Strange!" thought Fred; and he rode on a little further, till he was nearly to the top of the eminence, when his heart leaped, and by instinct he clapped his hand to his sword. For there, with lowered head, cropping the sweet short grass among the furze and heath, was the outpost's horse; and this, to Fred's experienced eye, meant the rider shot down at his post.
The picture that the outpost makes could be described as fascinating, something out of a Walt Disney fantasy but talk to somebody who's been there it's miserable. At 0020, twenty minutes after midnight, an airman watching one of the outpost's radarscopes saw a target appear. It looked like an airplane because it showed up as a bright, distinct spot.