"Heliograph," said Agar quietly, without taking his eyes from the spot
far down in the valley; and soon the little mirror was flashing out its
question over the vale. After a few anxious moments the answering gleam
sprang to life among the trees far below. Agar gave a quick little sigh
of relief--that was all.
Then followed a short conversation flickered over ten miles of space.
"Are you beset?" asked the Valley,
"No," replied the Hill.
"Is the enemy in sight?"
"No," replied the Mountain, again, with a sharp click.
"Are you all well?" flashed from below.
"Yes," from above.
Then the "Good-bye," and the glimmer of the bayonets began again.
Two hours later Major Agar drew his absurd little force in line, and thus
they received the relieving column, grimly conscious of dangers past but
not forgotten.
At the head of the new-comers rode a little man with a prominent chin and
a long drooping nose; such a remarkable-looking little man that the
veriest tyro at physiognomy would have turned to look at him again.
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