As I racked my brains in an effort to solve the mystery, the angry and energetic orator suddenly paused in his copious flow of invective, and in a dramatic manner pointed straight at Ned Burton.
At the same moment every eye and every weapon was turned upon my coxswain in a terribly ominous manner.
The truth flashed across me in an instant, and made me feel sick at heart.
This angry orator, this passionate denouncer, was none other than the cruel mule-driver who, on the way up from the sea-coast, had been flogged by Ned, in accordance with the instructions of the gunnery lieutenant.
Could any meeting have been more unfortunate?
My coxswain’s conduct during this trying ordeal was beyond all praise. That he recognized the man I had not the smallest doubt. He could not have failed to do so.
By the flickering light of the torches, which were jammed into rude sockets in the wall, I could see that Ned was sitting on the floor of the cave in the exact spot where I had seen him before, and watched by the lynx eyes of three armed desperadoes. He looked quite unconcerned at the angry tirade of his accuser; but I noticed that he kept his eyes steadily fixed upon those of the mule-driver, and that the latter seemed rather uneasy under this steadfast gaze. I could not help feeling alarmed as to the outcome of this episode and its accompanying disorder, for I felt convinced that Ned’s enemy was exaggerating the details of his story in the hopes of taking an ample revenge for his fancied wrongs.
I looked about for Mr. Triggs, but could not see him anywhere. It was evident that my former supposition was correct, and that he was confined in another portion of the cavern. The worthy gunner could have been of no possible use to us in this emergency, but I felt that it would have been a comfort to see him, and to feel assured of his presence and sympathy.
As I was gazing in a sort of fascinated way at the strange scene, a hush fell as if by magic on the excited assembly, a loud resonant voice rang throughout the cavern, and I saw the chief’s form appearing in the distance. He had evidently been absent for some little time, and was unaware of the advent of the mule-driver.
His followers fell back abashed as he strode forward imperiously into the centre of the cavern, closely followed by the big bloodhound. I fancied that the autocrat’s eyes flashed angrily, and that there was an unusual flush mantling on his olive-tinted cheek.