Billy Waters’ surprise had now evaporated along with his alarm, and pushing to the front once more he set himself to work to find how the enemy had eluded them.
They could not have gone through the rock, he argued, and there was no possible way that he could feel by which they had climbed up. Neither was ascent possible by scaling the rock to right or left, unless they had had a ladder, and of that there did not seem to have been any sign.
For a few moments the gunner stood as if nonplussed. Then an idea occurred to him.
Taking a pistol from his belt he quickly drew out the bullet and a portion of the powder before flashing off the other over some which he laid loose upon the rock.
This lit up the place for the moment, but revealed nothing more than they knew before, and that was that they were walled in on either side by rock, and that a huge mass rose up in front.
“It’s a rum ’un,” growled Tom Tully; and then again, “It’s a rum ’un. I say, Billy Waters, old mate, what’s gone o’ them chaps?”
The gunner felt ready to believe once more that there was something “no canny” about the affair, but he shook off the feeling, and began searching about once more for some sign or other of his enemies; but he sought in vain, and at last he turned to his companions to ask them what they had better do.
Such a proceeding would, however, be derogatory to his dignity, he thought, so he proceeded to give his opinion on the best course.
“Look here, my lads,” he said in a whisper; “it seems to me that we ought to have come on this trip by daylight.”
“That ere’s what I said,” growled Tom Tully.