In another two minutes they were in the open, on a broad, well-beaten track, and a subdued "Oh! oh!" of excitement ran along the men. The column pressed on rapidly, turning to the right uphill, and walking in the grass at the side of the path to make less noise. Every moment the men expected to be fired upon, and were already beginning to unsling their rifles as their excitement and nervousness increased. As they turned a corner an angry gust of wind, blowing up from the harbour below, dashed cold rain in their faces—still not a sound in front except the weird noises of the wind as it swept through the trees. Some of the youngsters were beginning to get "jumpy", and one or two began loading their rifles without orders. Cummins caught the sound of a breech-block closing (the rifles were Martinis, not Lee-Metfords), guessed what was happening, and knew that someone would let off a rifle and give the whole "show" away. He halted at once, sent Glover back with orders for every man’s rifle to be examined, and for the name of every man, found with a cartridge in his rifle, to be taken. This took time, but steadied the men, and whilst it was being done Cummins crept forward, followed by Glover, and a blurred, indistinct mass he had seen in front of him gradually shaped itself into a clump of trees. The path dropped slightly in front of him, ran across an open space, and then rose abruptly towards the trees. "Our gun is up there," whispered the Commander joyously, and lay down, coolly munching a stalk of grass, his supply of toothpicks having failed him, and tried to make out whether there was any sign of life under the trees. As they lay there another gust of wind carried up from the harbour the clattering noise of beating gongs. "Eh, boy! that’s the second time we’ve heard that noise," he chuckled. "Run back and bring up the men. We are not a hundred yards from the gun." As the men came up they were rapidly extended from left to right. "Fix bayonets, men; not a sound—no cheering—no shooting," the order went in whispers from man to man. The subdued rattle of fixing bayonets ran along the line, and Glover afterwards said it gave him the "shivers" to hear it. He was lying watching the Commander, and thought he would never give the order to charge. He could see the indistinct outline of the gun among the trees covered with a huge tarpaulin, and just then somebody near him whispered, "There are people moving about there, sir," and he could actually feel the men bracing themselves for a rush. At last the Commander was "up", and trotting down the slope with a bit of grass between his teeth. Glover followed, vainly trying to draw his cutlass. The men sprang after them, breasted the rise, swept over some level ground, and with a final rush leaped over a parapet of sand-bags, swarmed around the gun, and found—Gunner Bolton doing "sentry-go" backwards and forwards in rear of the gun! There was not a Chinaman to be seen.