Nothing loath, Sharpe unfastened his shoulder straps, slid his equipment quietly to the ground, and laid himself down beside his companion. For the moment all was quiet. The moon was hidden behind a bank of clouds, and it was therefore very dark, but sounds travel far in the night air of the forest, and when they conversed, they spoke only in whispers. "It may be," remarked Keane, "that the spot we seek is just in front of us, though I cannot see any glade or clearing as yet; it is too dark." "Is it likely that there are any booby-traps hereabouts, set by this wily professor?" asked his companion. "I cannot say; he may have some outer system of defence." "Or even a system of ground signals to announce the approach of strangers, whose presence might be undesirable to him," added Sharpe. "It is possible," whispered Keane, whose mind was actively engaged in preparation for eventualities, in view of his inexplicable premonitions. Suddenly he started and touched his comrade lightly with his raised forefinger. "Hist!" he said, in a voice which could not have carried further than a couple of yards Then he carefully raised his head, and, turning his eyes towards the thicket through which they had come, he tried to read the secret which it contained. His alarm was justified, yet was he mystified not a little, for the more immediate danger seemed to come from behind. "Can you hear it, Sharpe?" "Yes, the same crackling of twigs; another wild boar," remarked his friend facetiously. Keane shook his head, for his sensitive ears had told him that the footsteps which he had heard were those of human beings. Nor was he mistaken, for a moment later they both heard distinctly, not merely the crackling of twigs and the rustle of the bracken under heavy footfalls, but voices, human voices, conversing in a guarded and careful manner. "None of your Schwarzwald peasants this time," he murmured, fingering his Webley already, for he instinctively felt that this time they were beset by danger both before and behind. And indeed, these two men, during all their adventures in the secret service during the war, were never in more deadly peril than at this moment, as they were soon to learn. Scarcely daring to breathe, much less to whisper now, the two Englishmen watched furtively for the coming of the strangers, who were now less than a score of yards away, but were approaching very stealthily, as though they were searching for something on the ground. "Who can they be?" wondered Keane. "And what can they be searching for?" "Poachers," Sharpe was thinking, "merely poachers, searching for their booby-traps."