“Madness, man,” said the colonel. “Let it go. We’ve got all the others safe.”
“No, father,” cried Perry excitedly; “two Indians rushed out of this place while you were gone, and each man had one of the packs.”
“What!” cried the colonel in a despairing tone; “three of my precious packages of seed—gone?”
No one spoke; but from out of the darkness came the peculiar sound of one grinding his teeth, and a pang of misery and disappointment shot through Cyril as the colonel said bitterly:
“Two of you with guns, and you could not check those brutes.”
“No, sir,” growled John Manning; “how could they without bay’nets? ’tain’t to be done.”
“It was all so sudden, father,” put in Perry, his words saving John Manning from a stern reproof. “Cyril was knocked down, and there was not time to fire.”
“And if there had been,” whispered Cyril maliciously, “your gun would not have gone off.”
“Beg pardon, sir,” said John Manning, “I daresay we can get back the seed in the morning: they’ll keep the good things, and throw what they think is rubbish away.”
“No,” said the colonel, speaking sternly, “the three bags in those packages are gone. It is the main object of these men to keep the seed from being taken out of the country. Where is the lantern, Manning?”