In twenty minutes each had his station assigned him. Madame Vander Roey dismounted, and took hers beside her husband, to the right of the granite rampart. Gray stood as steady as the rock that screened him. Brennard assumed the command of the left wing. Lyle occupied the centre of the line, where there was a slight bend, and thus he was enabled to watch both flanks, and keep a close eye on Gray, to whom, as he fell into his place, he addressed a few words. "Gray," said Lyle, "do you intend to do your duty?" "By God's help, I will," was the reply of the young deserter, in a tone of confidence quite unexpected by the Mephistophiles of the wilderness. The latter looked at him, sneered, but was satisfied; and then, with his head bent below the ridge, scrambled over stone and scrub, reached his post, and there knelt down, his rifle ready for work, and his eye fixed on the line of march by which the troops were expected. But rain and sleet still occasionally veiled the prospect in vapour. The report of the videttes was questioned in its accuracy by some, and each man strove to pierce the mist, and give the first warning of the enemy's advance. A death-like silence reigned throughout that expectant company. At length the clouds slowly and almost imperceptibly lifted, and here and there some new feature in the scene developed itself--a solitary bush, the carcass of an ox, or a grave covered with stones--and, finally, two mounted men, soldiers of the Cape cavalry, moving leisurely forward, and, as May would have said, evidently _spenning_. "By heavens!" exclaimed Lyle, "they see us, and have turned to report. Confound that fellow Gray, he has run out the gun too far, and these Totties [Hottentots; particularly those of the Cape corps] have distinguished its black muzzle among the grey rocks." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ It needed no oaths to confirm the truth of his statement--the reconnoitrers had faced to the rear so suddenly, that there seemed but little doubt as to the cause of the movement, and a few minutes decided it. As the sun came up, the veil of mist was rent in twain, and fully disclosed to view a small body of English troops, under the command of Sir Adrian Fairfax. Lyle unslung his spy-glass, took a deliberate view of the encampment, and, closing the telescope in haste, exclaimed, "Every tent is struck--the advance-guard is on the march." The word passed to the right and left. Vander Roey, white as death, but steady as ever, glanced his eye, now along the line, now forward, now in the rear. His spies had evidently been mistaken as to the strength of the force; and now reason whispered him that his chance of success was small, but he had much dependence on his position. It was perfect in every way, whereas the British forces were on open, stony ground; they were new to the locality, and well worn with a march of thirty miles, which they must have made within twelve hours.