The party in the hut watched him for a few moments, and then John Manning said:
“There aren’t no better way, gentlemen, than mine. I don’t want to kill none of ’em, so long as they don’t try to kill me, or any of you. If they do, why, of course, it makes me feel nasty, and as if I could do anything to stop ’em.”
“It’s too horrid and butcher like,” said Cyril firmly.
“Yes,” assented Perry.
“Very well, then, gentlemen, suppose you propose a better way. It’s of no use to go an’ say, ‘Please we’re tired of staying here, and want to go,’ because that only would be waste of breath.”
“Yes,” said Perry sadly. “We shall never get away till they give us leave.”
“Hear that, Mr Cyril, sir; that’s my young master, and the son of a stout soldier as never turned his back on an enemy in his life. Don’t say you’re going to give up like that, sir.”
“No,” said Cyril, setting his teeth. “I’m not going to give up, and he is not going to give up either. We’ll get away somehow, though we can’t see the way just now.”
“That we will, sir,” cried John Manning excitedly. “Bri’sh wits again’ Injun wits. Bah! who says we can’t beat them? It’s all right, gentlemen. I know the colonel, and have known him since he was a slip of an ensign, and I was not much more than a raw Johnny of a boy fresh from the awkward squad. I say I know the colonel, and he’s only been leading us on. Wait till to-morrow night. He’s got some dodge or another ready to fire off, and this time two days we shall be on our way back, and the Injuns’ll be howling like mad, because they can’t make out which way we’ve gone.”