The first thing Ramsurun Duss did was to creep to one of the circular openings which served for windows. There he listened for several minutes. He fancied he heard whispered voices, but further attention convinced him he was mistaken. The stillness within was as profound as the grave.
"They are asleep," he said, in an undertone, to those around him; "we will all enter together, and leap upon them before they can awake."
But the others objected. They could not see the wisdom of exposing themselves to so much danger. More likely the Feringhees were making a pretense of unconsciousness, so as to draw them into a trap.
Their leader became savage at the cowardice of his men. He declared that he would manage the whole business himself, and would keep all the loot of the Feringhees.
With this parting threat he straightway entered upon his own campaign.
Picking his way down from where he was perched above the roof of the temple, he reached the arched entrance, as he believed, without betraying himself. When he came to look into the black, gaping mouth, which resembled the throat of some enormous piece of ordnance, he stood still for a full minute.
Some of his comrades had ventured too near that place during the past two days, and paid dearly for their temerity. Did a similar fate await him?
But he would not go back to his men, confessing that he was afraid. He stole swiftly through the passage way, until the larger apartment was reached.
Those on the outside were not kept waiting long, when he reappeared, gnashing his teeth and execrating.
"Too late," he exclaimed; "the Feringhees are gone!"