“We’d better wait a short time,” Ned answered. “The outlaws in the subterranean rooms will naturally be doubly watchful after our sensational escape, and so we’d better wait until along in the night.”
“They may not be there at all,” Jimmie finally said. “They may be just lost in the mountains.”
“I don’t think they would really get lost,” Ned decided.
While the boys talked around the angle of rock, a shrill cry followed by a pistol shot came from the camp.
In a moment Norman, the Boy Scout messenger boy, came dashing around the corner, white-faced and out of breath. He dropped down close to where the boys were standing and looked up at Ned with appealing eyes. He was evidently very much exhausted, for his breath came in short, hard gasps. There were spots of blood on his hands, as if they had been torn on rocky surfaces.
“Well?” asked Ned shortly. “What do you want here?”
Norman half arose and peered around the angle of rock.
“I came running up to the fire a minute ago,” he said, still panting, “and some one in the cave shot at me as I passed.”
“Don’t you think you deserve shooting?” asked Ned.
“Shooting for what?” asked the other faintly.