“Any chance to find a good hide-out up there?”
“The rocks near the tunnel entrance offer some protection. Better than this, but not good.”
“Let’s make for it then,” Ken suddenly advised.
They told Mr. Livingston of their plan, and he nodded agreement. Ken hoisted him onto his back in a fireman’s carry, toting him as far as the spring. There they splashed water on his fevered face, and went on again. When the path became very steep, the Scout leader managed to walk with support on either side.
Presently they reached the ridge to find themselves surrounded by rocks which had weathered into weird shapes. As they examined the passage entranceway through the great mass of twisted stone, Jack suddenly became tense.
“Listen!” he bade the others.
The chanting in the distance had ceased. But the Scouts could hear the hum of voices coming closer, and the pounding of feet on hard stone.
“The natives are returning this way!” Jack muttered. “Take cover!”
Quickly, the party retreated behind the eroded rocks, flattening themselves on the rough floor. Moments passed.
Then single file, like a swarm of hornets, the warriors began to pour out of the tunnel. The procession continued for so long that the Scouts lost count of those who passed through.