The package was heavy, but he hoisted it on to one shoulder, and was about to bear it into the cave, when he was driven backward, and fell heavily, to be trampled under foot by a couple of men who charged out, plainly showing that there were others inside.
It was almost momentary work. The men were there and then gone in the darkness, and, sore and angry, Cyril struggled to his feet.
“Why didn’t you fire?” he cried.
“What at? I might have hit you, or perhaps my father,” protested Perry.
“Trampling on a fellow like that,” grumbled Cyril, rehoisting his load.
“Yes; they had each got a pack.”
“What! our packs?” cried Cyril excitedly.
“Yes; I could just make that out,” said Perry.
“Oh!” ejaculated Cyril, stepping close in, and throwing down his load so as to regain his gun, “what will the colonel say?”
Not what the boy expected, for just then he came panting up with John Manning, carrying a pack between them; while the rattling of the loose stones told that they were being pursued.