Chapter Twenty Five.
Between Two Stools.
No time was lost. The two boys were posted at the cavern entrance, one to try to check any advance from the valley, the other to guard against the escape of the mules, and stay by his presence any Indian who might still be in hiding.
This latter was Cyril’s duty, and this time he set his teeth and stepped right within the opening, encouraged by the fact that he had the colonel and John Manning constantly coming and going with the mule-packs, till only two were left to bring in.
“I can hear people coming nearer,” whispered Perry just then, and the colonel threw his load down at his son’s feet.
“You lads carry that in,” he said.—“Manning, quick, we must get those other packs. They’re coming on.”
John Manning, who was walking back from the cave, hastened his pace, and the two men hurried through the darkness to where the last two packages lay.
“You keep watch,” said Cyril. “I’m the stronger, and will get the pack inside.”
Perry said nothing, but felt glad and yet sorry, for he dreaded to re-enter the cave alone, and at the same time was ashamed to relegate the task to his companion.
But there was no time for hesitation. Something serious was evidently going on by the spot where the packages had been stacked, for there were shouts and cries, and Cyril stooped to lift the pack, meaning to hurry into the cave and then return to pick up the gun he left with Perry, and stand ready to support their companions, in case he could do any good.
The package was heavy, but he hoisted it on to one shoulder, and was about to bear it into the cave, when he was driven backward, and fell heavily, to be trampled under foot by a couple of men who charged out, plainly showing that there were others inside.
It was almost momentary work. The men were there and then gone in the darkness, and, sore and angry, Cyril struggled to his feet.
“Why didn’t you fire?” he cried.
“What at? I might have hit you, or perhaps my father,” protested Perry.
“Trampling on a fellow like that,” grumbled Cyril, rehoisting his load.
“Yes; they had each got a pack.”
“What! our packs?” cried Cyril excitedly.
“Yes; I could just make that out,” said Perry.
“Oh!” ejaculated Cyril, stepping close in, and throwing down his load so as to regain his gun, “what will the colonel say?”
Not what the boy expected, for just then he came panting up with John Manning, carrying a pack between them; while the rattling of the loose stones told that they were being pursued.
“Quick, both of you,” cried the colonel, “fire in the direction of the noise.”
Cyril’s gun spoke out with both barrels rapidly, one after the other, the flashes cutting through the darkness, and the reports being followed a few seconds later by quite a volley of echoes, which ran reverberating along the gorge, to die away slowly in the distance; but before they had ceased, the little party was well inside the very doubtful shelter they had chosen, and John Manning posted at the entrance with his loaded piece.
“Why didn’t you fire?” whispered Cyril.
“I did.”
“That you didn’t. I did twice.”
“I mean,” said Perry, “I pulled the trigger, but the thing wouldn’t go off.—Oh!”
“What’s the matter?” said Cyril eagerly, as he reloaded his piece.
“Don’t say anything,” whispered Perry. “I forgot to cock it.”
“A narrow escape, Manning,” said the colonel just then.
“Tidy, sir,” replied the old soldier; “but I don’t like losing that pack. Shall I make a charge and fetch it in?”
“Madness, man,” said the colonel. “Let it go. We’ve got all the others safe.”
“No, father,” cried Perry excitedly; “two Indians rushed out of this place while you were gone, and each man had one of the packs.”
“What!” cried the colonel in a despairing tone; “three of my precious packages of seed—gone?”
No one spoke; but from out of the darkness came the peculiar sound of one grinding his teeth, and a pang of misery and disappointment shot through Cyril as the colonel said bitterly:
“Two of you with guns, and you could not check those brutes.”
“No, sir,” growled John Manning; “how could they without bay’nets? ’tain’t to be done.”
“It was all so sudden, father,” put in Perry, his words saving John Manning from a stern reproof. “Cyril was knocked down, and there was not time to fire.”
“And if there had been,” whispered Cyril maliciously, “your gun would not have gone off.”
“Beg pardon, sir,” said John Manning, “I daresay we can get back the seed in the morning: they’ll keep the good things, and throw what they think is rubbish away.”
“No,” said the colonel, speaking sternly, “the three bags in those packages are gone. It is the main object of these men to keep the seed from being taken out of the country. Where is the lantern, Manning?”
“Somewhere along with the packages, sir. I think we brought it in with the second lot.”
“You keep guard, while we search the cave. A sharp lookout, mind.—Perry, come with me.—You stay with Manning, Cyril, till I return.”
“Sharp lookout, sir!” growled the old soldier. “Who’s to keep a sharp lookout in the dark, and how’s a man to guard the inside and outside together?—Say, Master Cyril, we’re in a pretty tidy hole here, and it’ll take all we know to get out of it again.”
“Oh, we shall manage,” said Cyril sharply; “but three packs gone. That’s terrible!”
“’Tis, sir, and they’d all got in what’s of more consequence to us now than seed—a whole bag each of rice and meal, without counting delicacies in the shape o’ pepper and mustard.”
Just then there was the crackling of a match, followed by a faint glow, and the lantern shed its light around, gleaming from the running water, and showing dimly the mules standing in a group with their heads together. Then as Cyril stood waiting and watchful, he saw the lantern go on and on as if the colonel were zigzagging about to and fro, now approaching the little stream, now going right away. Sometimes the light passed beyond intervening rocks, and disappeared for a minute, then came into sight again; but there was no sign of other occupant in the great cave, whose extent was evidently vast.
“Don’t see no more o’ they bat birds buzzing about,” said Manning suddenly. “I hope they’ll come back.”
“Why?” said Cyril.
“Foodling,” growled the old soldier. “We may have to stand a siege, and it ain’t bad to know you’ve got plenty of meat and water on the spot.”
“What’s that noise?” whispered Cyril.
“Some on ’em crawling about on the stones outside yonder. I heered ’em, and if they don’t keep off—I don’t want to shoot no one, had enough of it when I was out in Indy, sir; but duty’s duty, and if they won’t leave us alone, they must be taught how. See anything o’ the lantern now?”
“No; it has gone out of sight some time.”
“Humph! I hope they won’t go too far and lose theirselves, sir, because they can’t be spared. I knowed of a man losing himself in a stone quarry once under ground, but they found him afterwards.”
“Half-starved?” said Cyril eagerly.
“Quite, sir. It was a year after he went down. I don’t like work under ground. It’s only fit for rats or worms. See the light now?”
“No: what’s that?”
“Something moving inside, sir.”
“The mules?”
“No, sir; their hoofs are not so soft as that. Sounds to me as if some of ’em was going to make a rush, and we haven’t a bay’net to bless ourselves with. You fire, sir, at once before they come on.”
Cyril did not hesitate, but without shouldering his piece, he drew trigger with the result that they heard, mingled with the reverberations of the report, a faint pattering noise as of retreating feet.
“Well done, sir. Reload quickly. They were going to rush us, and that’s taught ’em we were on the kwy wyve as the Frenchies call it.”
“Keep a sharp lookout your way,” said Cyril as he hurriedly reloaded, his fingers trembling from his excitement.
“That’s what I’m doing, sir, with my ears. I’ve been on sentry before with different kind of Indians on the lookout to bring you down with bullets. I shall hear ’em, I dessay.”
“But look here, John Manning, we’ve stopped those men from coming, and driven them back on the colonel.”
“Yes, sir, and all the worse for them, for he’s sure to hear them and be on the lookout. Strikes me that the cave swarms with Indians, and that our first job ought to be to clear the place. But look out, and don’t be in too great a hurry to shoot now, sir, because your shot ’ll bring our friends back to us. Perhaps it came in quite right, for they may have lost their way.”
Then some minutes passed, and a noise was heard which made Cyril lower his gun again, but a voice warned him that he must not fire.
“Where are you?” cried the colonel.
“Here, sir.”
“Thank goodness. We had an accident, fell over a stone, and put out the light. This place is tremendous, and we should have hardly found our way out of it, had it not been for your shot. Did you mean it as a recall?”
Cyril explained, and the colonel came to the conclusion that it was useless to explore farther, for there was room for a hundred of the enemy to hide and elude them, so vast was the number of huge blocks lying about, masses which had fallen from the roof during some convulsion of nature.
“We must wait for daylight,” he said at last. “It is impossible to make any plans till then.”
But all the same the colonel arranged his little force so that it might tell to the best advantage; he and Perry securing themselves behind a block of stone to guard from an attack within, while Cyril had to join John Manning in guarding the entrance from an attack from outside, where they had the satisfaction soon after of seeing one of the mountain peaks appear, pale and ghastly looking, over the other side of the gorge, while all below was intensely black.
Once they heard a peculiar cry which might have come from Indians or some wild creature, quadruped or night-bird; but otherwise all was still in the gorge, as they strained their eyes in their endeavours to pierce the darkness in search of danger.
At last weariness began to tell upon Cyril, and his head nodded gently, then went down so suddenly that he started up, angry, and in dread lest Manning should have been aware of his lapse. For it was horrible at a time like that, when perhaps the lives of all depended upon his watchfulness.
“It was too dark, and he did not notice it,” thought Cyril, with a glow of satisfaction pervading his breast.
“Yes, it’s hard work, as I well know, sir,” said Manning quietly. “When I was a soldier first, I used to think it killing work to keep on sentry when one would have given anything to have a good sleep.”
“You noticed it, then,” said Cyril.
“Noticed it, my lad? why, of course. Seeing how dark it is, you might have had a doze and me not known anything but there you were, very quiet; but when you says to me, as plain as a young man can speak, ‘I’m tired out, and my eyes won’t keep open any longer,’ why, of course, I know you’re off.”
“But did I say that?”
“Not exactly, sir, but you said ‘gug,’ and I heered your teeth chop together when your chin went down upon your chest.”
“Oh!” ejaculated Cyril bitterly, “and I did try so hard.”
“Course you did, sir, but human nature’s the nat’ralist thing there is, and it will have its own way. I’d say have a snooze, but orders were that you was to watch, and watch you must.”
“Yes,” said Cyril firmly, “and I will keep awake now.”
He kept his word for fully ten minutes, and then his efforts were vain. If the peril had been ten times greater, he would have dropped off all the same; but he had not slept a minute before there was the sharp report of a gun which came bellowing out of the cave’s mouth, and the boy started up once more as if it were he who had been shot; while from close at hand there was a rush of feet, and John Manning fired at once into the darkness, with the result that there was another rush from Cyril’s right.