“Well?” inquired the baronet sleepily.
“I guess it’s time to be moving.”
Yawning, Seymour rose and stretched himself.
“Just rouse Pharaoh there,” Haverly went on, as he slung his rifle over his shoulder.
Moving over to a corner of the cave, the baronet prodded the sleeping savage in the ribs. With a guttural cry the creature rose, shook himself like a dog, and stood awaiting orders.
“I guess you’d better drop it to him as we want to strike for this yer temple right now,” drawled the Yankee.
Seymour interpreted the message, whereupon Gehari affirmed, with many vigorous movements of his hands, that he could lead the great chief and his friend by a secret road, known only to himself and to one other who was dead, which would take them right to the den of the sacred beast.
“Lead on, then,” cried Seymour, “but beware how you deal with us. Serve us well, and you shall be rewarded; betray us, and you shall die by the fire-sticks.”
He tapped his rifle significantly as he spoke, and the savage, having been a witness of the death of the great serpent, seemed to fully comprehend.
He flung himself down upon the cavern floor and pressed his forehead to the baronet’s boots; then, rising, he moved swiftly outside.