"We're besieged."
"Besieged?" wondered the Professor.
"Yes; there's a crowd outside, and they've been trying to shoot me up. Must be some of your friends, Mr. Marquand."
"Lasar and Comstock? The scoundrels!" growled Mr. Marquand. "But we'll make short work of them."
"Not so easy as you think There are more than two out there—there's a crowd and they've got rifles. Our rifles are over in the camp. I've got a six-shooter and so have you, but what do they amount to against half a dozen rifles?"
"I'll talk to them, if I can get any place to make them hear," announced Mr. Marquand, starting up the stairs.
"I reckon there's a window on the second floor, but you'd better be careful that you don't get winged," warned the guide.
Mr. Marquand went right on, and the others followed. As the guide had said there was a small window on the floor above the ground, apparently the only one in the house.
Mr. Marquand hailed the besiegers.
"Who are you and what do you mean by shooting us up in this fashion?" he demanded.