Where and how he followed, Rudolph never could have told; but once, as
they ran slinking through the heaviest smoke and, as it seemed, the
heart of the turmoil, he recognized the yawning rim of a clay-pit, not a
stone's throw from his own gate. It was amazing to feel that safety lay
so close; still more amazing to catch a glimpse of many coolies digging
in the pit by torchlight, peacefully, as though they had heard of no
disturbance that evening. Hardly had the picture flashed past, than he
wondered whether he had seen or imagined it, whose men they were, and
why, even at any time, they should swarm so busy, thick as ants, merely
to dig clay.
He had worry enough, however, to keep in view the white cross-barred
hieroglyphic on his guide's jacket. Suddenly it vanished, and next
instant the muzzle of the gun jolted against his ribs.
"Run, quick," panted Wutzler, pushing him aside. "To the left, into the
go-down. Here they are!--To your left!" And with the words, he bounded
off to the right, firing his gun to confuse the chase.
Rudolph obeyed, and, running at top speed, dimly understood that he had
doubled round a squad of grunting runners, whose bare feet pattered
close by him in the smoke.
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