"Not in a diorite rock," added Mackay, much perplexed.
They stood gazing at the tantalizing face of the ponderous doorway for some time without speaking. Then Mackay was aroused to action.
"We'll find out all about it before we go away from here," he said, "but in the meantime we'll barricade the swinging rock on this side to prevent any one coming out. I have an idea that it wasn't right closed at first or we would never have been able to find it; the blacks were in too great a hurry to be cautious, I'm thinking."
With a will they all set to work and built up a rampart of massive boulders in the ravine. Then they sadly went back to the camp-fire to await the coming of the dawn. All thought of sleep had left them now, and they sat moodily by the flickering flames for some time without a word being spoken, then as the chill morning air made itself felt, Bob's wounded arm, which he had not yet examined, began to grow stiff, and his head throbbed painfully. The Shadow, too, was far from comfortable, though he made no complaint, and he fought against his growing weakness manfully but at last, with a weary sigh, he fell back limp on his blanket. Then Mackay rose with an exclamation of regret.
"Bill," he said, "we've forgotten that these young mates of ours are scarcely as tough as we are. We'd better try an' doctor up their bruises a bit."
Emu Bill staggered to his feet with a sympathetic grunt, and walked blindly towards the camel packs in search of something that might serve for bandages, and Mackay stooped over the fallen Shadow and pulled back the neck of his much-torn shirt. The cause of that individual's relapse was not difficult to find, a great jagged gash on the young bushman's shoulder showed what a fierce blow he had received, evidently from a flint-studded club. Jack hurried to fetch water to lave the bloody wound, but the Shadow refused to receive any attention.
"Let the thing dry, boss," he said, sitting up once more. "I reckon I ain't no tender chicken to howl 'bout a muskittie bite."
Bob's memento of the affray was a little more serious; one of the barbs of the arrow had broken in his arm, keeping the wound open, and the blood was still dripping down his sleeve in great gouty drops. Mackay carefully cut out the splintered wood with the point of his sheath-knife, an acutely painful operation; but the patient never winced.
Then Emu Bill returned. "I can't find nary cloth 'ceptin' flour-bags," he announced. "Take a bit o' this here shirt o' mine."