What Ned had said appalled them all. The situation had seemed peculiar and distressing before, because they could not see far enough ahead to even guess how it might turn out; it became positively terrifying now.
They had heard some of the punchers speak about the powerful agency of the weed mentioned by the scout master. One man had told how it was often used to force wolves from their rocky dens. When set to smouldering, it produced a smoke that was quite irresistible, and which overpowered man or beast.
“Why can’t we find a way to keep it out of the cave?” Jack presently demanded, when they found themselves rubbing their eyes, in spite of themselves, and beginning to feel half choked in the bargain.
“The opening is too wide to think of closing it, more’s the pity,” Harry answered, with deep regret in his voice.
“And even then we couldn’t keep the smoke out,” Ned told them; “because we’d have to get air, and where that can enter the smoke could too.”
“This is sure the worst deal I ever struck!” gasped Jimmy. “It takes your breath away like fun, and makes you think your eyes are bored in your head. They call it by the right name, I tell you, for it certainly does smell rank. Whew! somebody fan me, or I’ll go under.”
Nobody took the trouble to oblige Jimmy. The fact was they all felt it just as badly as the freckled-faced scout; and each fellow was trying the best he knew how to get temporary relief.
“How’s it going to end, Ned?” asked Jack, and his voice sounded very queer, for he was talking between his teeth, not wishing to open his mouth wider than he could possibly help.
“One of two ways,” returned the scout master, gloomily.
“You mean we’ll just have to hoist the white rag and give up?” continued Jack, in deep disgust.