“The killing of two of their number undoubtedly frightened them away,” Ned answered. “At any rate, the moon is rising now, and any danger which threatens may readily be detected. You must understand,” he went on, “that the outlaws who came to the Devil’s Punch Bowl expected to find you three boys lying dead at the bottom.”
“Why should they think that?” asked Harry.
“I’m going on the theory,” replied Ned, “that this crooked little messenger boy notified the outlaws where we were to be found before he came to lead us to the slaughter.”
“That’s just about what he did!” Jack interposed.
“In that case,” Ned continued, “When they saw no trace of us in the pit, they were ready to abandon their search, probably believing that the boy had deceived them.”
“I understand,” Frank cut in, “then they got into a mixup among themselves and, according to Gilroy, two were killed and the rest took a hot-foot for the cool chambers of the old mission.”
“That’s the way I look at it,” Ned said.
“Then we may as well be getting Harry out,” Frank suggested. “We’ll tie the rope under his arms, use our coats for a stretcher and pull him gently, yet firmly, up the tunnel until his back wears out and then we’ll turn him over.”
“I could walk up all right,” Harry insisted, “if the tunnel was only high enough for me to stand up in.”
“But it isn’t,” Jack returned. “We’ve all got to crawl on our hands and knees, and you never can do it with that bum wing of yours.”