produce a noise, moved stealthily forward, still on my hands and knees;
but, after each step, pausing and feeling ahead until my fingers seemed
to have grown as long and sensitive as antennae. In this way I must have
gone another two hundred feet when I saw a glimmer of white light. It
was the electric torch, and I knew the sentry must be looking at his
watch.

Fleeting as it had been it showed me that between us lay a patch of
saw-palmetto, and this was awkward as I could get no idea of its depth.
But since he did not call the post I knew that he would soon be taking
another look at the time, and kept warily on, my eyes alert to ascertain
the dimensions of that patch the instant his torch should flare. For I
must crawl around it; to go through would be impossible. Smilax could
have achieved it, but Smilax was a wonder.

The light showed again. I was within fifty feet of the patch now and saw
with a feeling of relief that it ended almost at the spot where my man
stood, or sat, or whatever he was doing. Still, the time had not come
for him to call the half hour, when I should be able to advance more
rapidly during the few seconds that his voice would make him insensible
to other slight sounds. Inch by inch, almost holding my breath, I
crawled. The pine needles let me slide along as though on a greased
floor. My left hand touched a saw-toothed stem, so I veered slightly to
the right, getting closer, all the while closer.

At the next flash I heard him clear his throat--that had ever
been his prelude to a call--and by the time his sing-song
"Post-one-half-past-ten-and-all's-well" ended I had made good
progress. Now, close up behind the point of palmettoes which acted
as a screen but was too sparse to offer interference, I realized
that he could be not more than ten feet away; and this was the best
I could hope to do, surely as close as I dared get.

But ten feet was too great a space to be crossed at a bound before he
might utter one cry that would alarm the camp. One cry, even half a cry,
meant ruin to us. It was not enough that this sentry die; he must die
without having uttered the merest sound. I determined, therefore, to
wait until his senses became focused, his breathing centered, on the
eleven o'clock call; for, so occupied, his mind would be a fraction of a
second slower in responding to an outside thought which came unawares to
him than if he were standing on the alert for sounds. This seemed to be
good psyc