"Little Commissary," said the leader of the soldiers, "she is not here. They did not pass out."
"Search, search!" shouted Boolba, striking at the man. "Search, you pig!"
"We have the other boorjoo," stammered the man.
"Search!" yelled Boolba. "There is a door near the fire—is it open?"
The door lay in the shadow, and the man ran to look.
"It is open, comrade," he said.
"After them, after them!"
Boolba howled the words, and in terror they left their prisoner and flocked out of the door. Cherry stood in the centre of the room, his hands strapped behind his back, his shirt half ripped from his body, and looked up into the big blinded face which came peering towards him as though, by an effort of will, it could glimpse his enemy.
"You are there?"
Boolba's hands passed lightly over the gun-man's face, fell upon his shoulders, slipped down the arm. "Is this the thief? Yes, yes; this is the thief. What is he doing?"
He turned, not knowing that the soldiers had left him alone, and again his hands passed lightly over Cherry's face.
"This is good," he said, as he felt the bands on
