“The suggestion of a backward movement came from me,” he said, “and by so doing I am not afraid to have my courage called into question. Discretion is said to be the better part of valor. We appear to have reached a critical position here. Our party is small—nineteen in all, counting the two boys. If the Indians oppose us in force—and from what Glyndon says it seems that this Indian Prophet Smoholler can put three hundred warriors in the field—shall we be justified in advancing against such odds?”
The surveyors looked at Glyndon, but he was silent, gazing reflectively at the cliff, upon whose summit the moonbeams now played in a fantastic manner.
“I confess I don’t like the idea of retreating,” said Blaikie. “I don’t want to be turned back by such a scarecrow as that.”
“No more do I,” added Robbins.
“I don’t say go back, and I don’t say go on,” replied Glyndon, in his deliberate manner; “but I say, just hold on for a while here, where we are, until we can see how the cat jumps.”
“How long will it be before the feline animal indulges in her gymnastic exercise, do you think?” asked Robbins.
“Before you can smoke another pipe,” answered Glyndon. “I have an idea that something is going to happen right away—kind o’ feel it in my bones. Get the men ready, leftenant—there’s no telling what is— Hello! it’s coming! Fireworks—by king!”
The amazement of the old hunter was shared by the whole camp, and the two boys came running in from their posts.
“See—see—look there!”
A strange fire issued from the face of the cliff, disclosing a little shelf or platform, backed by a cavity. From this cavity the fire came forth with crimson luster, and rose colored smoke rolled upward toward the heaven, obscuring the moon-rays.