Quite twenty well-armed men darted off through the opening into the jungle, the Princess following them at the end of a few minutes with half a dozen more of her followers, leaving the palm and bamboo edifice apparently deserted, and the way free.
“Now is our time, Chum!” whispered Hilton, and cautiously rising, they began to look for another path—one that would lead them to the water by a different route.
They ran round the house twice, and then gazed at each other in despair.
There was but one path, which led right to the opening in which the house was built. All around was impassable jungle; and the only way to escape was to follow the Inche Maida and her men.
The place was a regular trap, and could have been defended by a few resolute fellows against hundreds if there was an attack.
“What’s to be done, Chum?” said Hilton.
“Go in and hide somewhere, and wait till night.”
“With those women to tell the Princess where we have hidden ourselves!” said Hilton, angrily, pointing to a group of half a dozen women standing in the doorway and watching their movements.
Chumbley made a few steps as if to go to them, when they scuttled off like so many rabbits in an English warren; and there were but two courses open to them—either to follow their would-be pursuers, or to calmly go back and wait for the Inche Maida’s return.
“It will be taking trouble for nothing to go after them,” said Chumbley, wearily. “Let’s go back to our room and order the women to bring us some breakfast.”