"You'll do nothing o' the kind," said Mackay, firmly, laying a restraining hand on the youth's shoulder. "We've got something else to do in the meantime, my lad. Bill will be gropin' in the dark for that nigger dress, an' he'll be here in a minute."
The Shadow's feeble smile at being intercepted in his desire to possess the treasure he so much coveted looked so malevolent on his besmeared features, that Jack could not forbear a hearty laugh. Then Bob gave a gasp of dismay.
"I can hear natives coming through the passage!" he said. "What are we to do about Bill?"
The vague echoes of shuffling movements were now quite plainly heard, and still there was no sign from Emu Bill; probably he had not yet become aware of the ominous sounds, or perhaps he was, as the Shadow had suggested, too much engrossed with a congenial task to grasp their true significance. With a forceful expression on his lips Mackay insinuated his muscular form into the gap, and just at that instant a band of savages swept by him so close that they almost touched him. Then only it seemed that Emu Bill became aroused to his danger. A hoarse snarl of rage rang along the passage, and the sounds of a silent scuffle came to Mackay's ears as he stood motionless by the exit. With a stifled groan he pulled himself up, just as the warriors had evidently accomplished their work.
"Have they killed him too?" whispered Jack, nervously.
Mackay did not trust himself to reply. He motioned Bob to hand him his rifle, and he was sliding back into the passage with a vengeful rage in his heart when a stentorian call from Emu Bill made him pause.
"I'm not dead, boys," he cried, "but they've got me trussed up like a prize fowl, an' I don't know what they're goin' to do wi' me. Block the light, or they'll see where I came in, an' don't try to save me now, for there's over a score o' the skunks. It'll be all right, boys, all right. Ye are a pack of miserable, sneakin', howlin' gorillas——"
The last phrase, which was continued at some length, was obviously destined for his captors as they bore him along. It was evident that Bill had suffered no serious hurt at their hands, and his warning showed that, even under such exceptionally trying circumstances, he was not unmindful of the welfare of his comrades, who would assuredly have been overcome had they descended to his assistance. The bushman's chivalric self-abnegation however would not have deterred Mackay from taking long odds at a work of rescue, but in the gloom of the cavern such action would have been futile, or perhaps worse, because any shots fired at random might just as easily kill Emu Bill as any one else, and the resultant chaos could only end in one way. So Bill was led away by the savage band, who gave vent to their satisfaction by sending forth shrill, unmusical shouts, which rang through the vaulted chamber like the cries of demons in torment. They passed by the gap in the wall which Mackay's bulk covered without a moment's pause, and marched slowly on into the heart of the mountain.
When at last all discordant sounds had died away, Mackay aroused himself with alacrity; but when his gaze fell upon the despondent countenances of his companions, he could not forbear a smile; their dusky aspect and warrior-like trappings agreed ill with their sorrowful visages.