Running hither and thither, their sharp black eyes darting in every direction, they could not be long without discovering traces of the interlopers. A sort of halloo, something like the yelp of a large dog, when a cow flings him over the fence, told that one of the dusky scamps were on the trail. Immediately the whole pack darted up the channel, and the next moment, had halted before the mouth of a cave, the entrance being of sufficient width to admit the passage of an ordinary sized man; but just now a large boulder prevented their ingress.
Certain that the gold hunters were immured here, and were within their power, the Mohaves indulged in a hop, skip, and dance around the cave, flinging their arms aloft, and shouting continually in their wild, outlandish tongue. When their clamor had somewhat subsided, a gruff voice from within the cave was heard.
“Hullo! dar I say! Hullo! I say! Can’t yese keep yer clacks still a minnit when a gemman wishes to speak?”
The singular source and sound of the human voice had the desired effect, and instant silence fell upon all.
“Am dar any ob yous dat spoke English? If dar am, please to signify it by sayin’ so, an’ if dar ain’t, also signify dat by obsarvin’ de same sign.”
Jim waited several minutes for a reply, but, receiving none, he became more indignant, and was about to burst out in a tirade against them, when George Inwood ventured to suggest that, as in all probability they could not speak the English language, as a matter of course, they were deprived of the ability of saying so.
“But dey orter to know ’nough to say no—any fool know dat,” persisted the African.
“But how can they understand what you say?”
“Clar—didn’t tink ob dat. What am we to do?”
“Defend ourselves—that is all that is left us.”