ng," he said, "to find you. The first night, I saw coolies
working in the clay-pit. Bend, a moment over. Put now the ear close."

Heywood laid his cheek in the dust.

"They're keeping such a racket outside," he muttered; and then, half to
himself: "It certainly is. Rudie, it's--it's as if poor Kempner
were--waking up." He listened again. "You're right. They are digging."

The two friends sat up, and eyed each other in the starlight.

CHAPTER XIX

BROTHER MOLES

This new danger, working below in the solid earth, had thrown Rudolph
into a state of sullen resignation. What was the use now, he thought
indignantly, of all their watching and fighting? The ground, at any
moment, might heave, break, and spring up underfoot. He waited for his
friend to speak out, and put the same thought roundly into words.
Instead, to his surprise, he heard something quite contrary.

"Now we know!" said Heywood, in lively satisfaction. "Now we know what
the beasts have up their sleeve. That's a comfort. Rather!"

He sat thinking, a white figure in the starlight, cross-legged like a
Buddha.

"That's why they've all been lying doggo," he continued. "And then their
bad marksmanship, with all this sniping--they don't care, you see,
whether they pot us or not. They'd rather make one clean sweep, and
'blow us at the moon.' Eh? Cheer up, Rudie: so long as they're digging,
they're not blowing. Are they?"

While he spoke, the din outside the walls wavered and sank, at last
giving place to a shrill, tiny interlude of insect voices. In this
diluted silence came now and then a tinkle of glass from the dark
hospital room where Miss Drake was groping among her vials.
Heywood listened.

"If it weren't for that," he said quietly, "I shouldn't much care.
Except for the women, this would really be great larks." Then, as a
shadow flitted past the orange grove, he roused himself to hail: "Ah
Pat! Go catchee four piecee coolie-man!"

"Can do." The shadow passed, and after a time returned with four other
shadows. They stood waiting, till Heywood raised his head from the dust.

"Those noises have stopped, down there," he said to Rudolph; and rising,
gave his orders briefly. The coolies were to dig, strike into the
sappers' tunnel, and report at once: "Chop-chop.--Meantime, Rudie, let's
take a holiday. We can smoke in the courtyard."

A solitary candle burned in the far corner of the inclosure, and cast
faint streamers of reflection along the we