“A few? No, many,” snorted the Mammoth. “I smell them everywhere; on both sides and before us. The air is rank with their foul odor.”
“It is; he says right,” Wulli added. “The Trog-men are all about us. I smell nothing else.”
Cold sweat dampened Pic’s forehead. The moment called for a keen eye and clear head. He stepped in the lead of the party and looked about him. In his friends’ powers of smell and hearing he had unbounded faith. He mistrusted the sharpness of their eyes but considered their ears and noses infallible. He now watched the Mammoth who had raised his trunk a second time and was pointing it to the heights on his right. The Ape Boy looked in that direction. He dimly saw dark faces peering from behind the rocks which lay strewn along the high ground back from the edge of the gorge. Hairi’s trunk swung to the left;—more rocks and more faces peering down. Pic glanced behind him in dismay. What he saw, made his heart sink.
A wall of smoke filled the valley from height to height, greedily licked up the dry grass and sedge. Bright tongues of flame flashed from beneath. The meadows were afire.
Pic felt like a rat caught in a trap. The blazing meadows cut off all retreat. His enemies held the heights on both sides; but he could see none of them in the gorge itself; none in the pass. The trio must either go forward or retrace their steps through the wall of smoke and fire. The latter choice gave little hope. Neither the Mammoth nor Rhinoceros would face the things they most dreaded—red tongues and white, curling clouds. One glimpse of the terror behind them, and they would break loose in a wild stampede. The Ape Boy looked wildly about him. Advance or retreat—which? He must act quickly, for his friends were becoming more and more alarmed.
Thus far the two animals suspected nothing of the danger in their rear. They stood cowering with fear of the threatening human odors and the rocks which hemmed them in. In a moment, their thoughts would turn to the valley behind; their only chance of escape; and then—
“All is clear ahead,” Pic whispered. “There lies our safety. I can see through the cleft to where green pastures await us. Our foes lie concealed far back upon the heights. They must come much closer if they would stone and spear us. Move on and through before they cut us off.”
Thus encouraged, Hairi and Wulli set their great bodies in motion. Pic led the way, fully expecting to see a rush of dark figures hurrying to intercept them. But nothing of the sort occurred. Heads and faces appeared in plenty from behind every rock,—but no bodies. No hoarse cries arose amid a rush of hurrying feet. The heads craned eagerly forward and the faces stared down at the advancing trio; but they did nothing more and made no sound. The stillness of death was in the air. What did it all mean?
Pic was sorely perplexed. The strange inaction of his enemies was more terrifying than the din of battle. Perhaps he but led his friends into some hidden death-trap. His eyes searched the pass ahead,—the jagged walls, then the ground strewn with tree branches, fresh dirt and grass; and as he looked, his heart leaped almost to his throat.