Chapter Twenty Five.
Between Two Stools.
No time was lost. The two boys were posted at the cavern entrance, one to try to check any advance from the valley, the other to guard against the escape of the mules, and stay by his presence any Indian who might still be in hiding.
This latter was Cyril’s duty, and this time he set his teeth and stepped right within the opening, encouraged by the fact that he had the colonel and John Manning constantly coming and going with the mule-packs, till only two were left to bring in.
“I can hear people coming nearer,” whispered Perry just then, and the colonel threw his load down at his son’s feet.
“You lads carry that in,” he said.—“Manning, quick, we must get those other packs. They’re coming on.”
John Manning, who was walking back from the cave, hastened his pace, and the two men hurried through the darkness to where the last two packages lay.
“You keep watch,” said Cyril. “I’m the stronger, and will get the pack inside.”
Perry said nothing, but felt glad and yet sorry, for he dreaded to re-enter the cave alone, and at the same time was ashamed to relegate the task to his companion.
But there was no time for hesitation. Something serious was evidently going on by the spot where the packages had been stacked, for there were shouts and cries, and Cyril stooped to lift the pack, meaning to hurry into the cave and then return to pick up the gun he left with Perry, and stand ready to support their companions, in case he could do any good.