“They’re coming up the gully!” exclaimed Carl.
“And the others are coming down!”
“It’s a blooming trap!” Carl cried. “They knew we’d make for the camp-fire when they stole our machine. They knew we’d be so cold on the shelf near the summit that we’d freeze to death if we didn’t. So they waited until we got into the trap and started out from both ends to meet us. No wonder they brought the machine back to the old place with a combination like that working!”
“We might hide in one of these openings between the rocks,” Jimmie suggested. “They probably know every one of ’em as well as we know every burr and bolt in the Louise, but even if they do it will take them a long time to find which one we’re hiding in.”
They could see the two men who had left the fire scrambling up the gully, still some distance away. The men who were coming down were faintly outlined against the brilliant sky, and occasionally against the white surface of the summit. This party was also some distance away.
The boys searched about industriously for a hiding-place, rejecting several breaks in the rocks as being too shallow, and finally came to a cavern which seemed to extend a considerable distance under the slope.
“I’d like to know what kind of a hole this is,” Carl whispered as the two moved backward in absolute darkness.
“I brought my searchlight from the machine,” Jimmie whispered back, “and when we get in a little farther, so the light won’t be seen from outside, I’ll turn it loose.”
“You’d better do it now!” urged Carl. “When they get exactly in front they can see the light, no matter how much we try to shield it.”
“That’s a good idea, too!” Jimmie declared.