a soldierly virtue which I could not
boast of--namely, patience.

* * * * *

The work of entrenchment was soon completed after my departure; then there
was nothing more to be done except to appoint the men to their quarters,
place sentinels on the highest of the waggons, and wait.

Ah, but this waiting is a weary thing under circumstances like the
present--waiting and watching, not knowing from what quarter the attack
will come, what form it will take, or when it will commence.

Except in the chief caravan itself, where Moncrieff and Donald sat for a
time to keep up the hearts of the ladies, no lights were lit.

There was no singing to-night, hardly a smile on any face, and no one
spoke much above a whisper. Poor old Jenny had gone to sleep, as usual.

'Wake me,' had been her last words. 'Wake me, laddie, when the Philistines
are upon us.'

'The old lady's a marvel!' Moncrieff had whispered to aunt.

Moncrieff was doing all he could to keep conversation alive, though,
strange to say, Bombazo seldom spoke. Surely he could not be afraid.
Moncrieff had his suspicions. Brave as my aunt was, the waiting made her
nervous.

'Hark!' she would say every now and then; or, 'Listen! What was that?'

'Only the cry of a burrowing owl,' Moncrieff might have to answer; or,
'Only the yap of a prowling fox.' Oh, the waiting, the weary waiting!

The moon rose at last, and presently it was almost as light as day.

'Will they come soon, think you?' whispered poor Aileen.

'No, darling; not for hours yet. Believe me there is no danger. We are
well prepared.'

'Oh, Alec, Alec!' she answered, bursting into tears; 'it is you I fear
for, not myself. Let me go with you when they come. I would not then be
afraid; but waiting here--oh, it is the waiting that takes all the heart
out of me.'

'Egyptian darkness!' murmured the old lady in her sleep. Then in louder,
wilder key, 'Smite them!' she exclaimed. 'Smite this host of the
Philistines from Gideon to Gaza.'

'Dear old mither, she's dreaming,' said Moncrieff. 'But, oh, we'll laugh
at all this by to-morrow night, Aileen, my darling.'

One hour, two hours went slowly, painfully past. The moon mounted higher
and higher, and shone clearer and clearer, but not yet on all the plains
were there signs of a mounted Indian.

Yet even at that moment, little though our people knew it, swarthy forms
were creeping stealthily through the pampas gra