“It’s bad!” remarked Scarred Eagle. “We won’t have a chance to let ’em know we’re here except by shouting, an’ they’d see through that. If we could git in a shot or two now, they’d b’l’eve we war in the last extremity.”
As he spoke, “thump, thump,” came sounds from above. Pressing up as far as possible, between the wall and obstructions before them, he obtained a view of several dark figures relieved against a starlit sky in the distance.
“That bowlder broke a section of the ledge as it fell, an’ the devils ar’ makin’ thar way round it,” he whispered. “It’s jest the thing after all—reach my rifle here, Revel!”
Mace had made the discovery as soon as Rhodan. Revel handed them their weapons, and stepped back.
“Push y’ur weepon up as far as ye kin,” cautioned Scarred Eagle. “The report ’ll be less likely to echo back below us.”
But they withheld their fire. The Indians had suddenly ceased their work again, and not a glimpse of them could be seen. Minute after minute passed of unbroken silence.
“I had hoped they’d keep on!” said Scarred Eagle. “But their crazy rage is coolin’. Thet’s what’s made ’em work, when they mout ’a’ waited an b’en jest ’s sure. Ah-ha—what’s ter pay now?”
CHAPTER XI.
NOOKECHIN.
The Irishman had scrambled up, and stood beside them.
“For dthe luv of God coom below, quick!” he exclaimed. “Dthe rats are movin’ in wud the boats!”