“Quick, both of you,” cried the colonel, “fire in the direction of the noise.”
Cyril’s gun spoke out with both barrels rapidly, one after the other, the flashes cutting through the darkness, and the reports being followed a few seconds later by quite a volley of echoes, which ran reverberating along the gorge, to die away slowly in the distance; but before they had ceased, the little party was well inside the very doubtful shelter they had chosen, and John Manning posted at the entrance with his loaded piece.
“Why didn’t you fire?” whispered Cyril.
“I did.”
“That you didn’t. I did twice.”
“I mean,” said Perry, “I pulled the trigger, but the thing wouldn’t go off.—Oh!”
“What’s the matter?” said Cyril eagerly, as he reloaded his piece.
“Don’t say anything,” whispered Perry. “I forgot to cock it.”
“A narrow escape, Manning,” said the colonel just then.
“Tidy, sir,” replied the old soldier; “but I don’t like losing that pack. Shall I make a charge and fetch it in?”