“No; if we did, it would only be giving a false alarm, when we know that there is no danger. Come along.”
The weaker mind yielded to the stronger, and the march round was begun again, one which required no little courage, knowing, as the boys did, that there must be quite a dozen Indians within striking distance, and every rustle they heard, made probably by one of the grazing mules, might be caused by an enemy creeping forward to strike a blow.
At last, when they felt that it must be getting toward midnight, Cyril proposed that they should go back close to where the colonel lay asleep, and they had not been standing near him ten minutes, hesitating to call him for fear he should be awakened too soon, when he suddenly made a hasty movement, opened his eyes, looked round, and sprang to his feet.
“Midnight, boys,” he said, “is it not?”
“We don’t know, father, and did not like to call you too soon.”
“Yes, it must be about midnight,” he said decisively, “or I should not have woke up. Well, is all right?”
“No, father,” whispered Perry.
“Oh yes; there’s nothing to mind,” said Cyril hastily. “We only found that there are a lot of Indians round about the camp.”
“You saw them?”
“Yes, sir. So soon as we moved a little way, a man rose up and stopped us.”