“Somewhere along with the packages, sir. I think we brought it in with the second lot.”
“You keep guard, while we search the cave. A sharp lookout, mind.—Perry, come with me.—You stay with Manning, Cyril, till I return.”
“Sharp lookout, sir!” growled the old soldier. “Who’s to keep a sharp lookout in the dark, and how’s a man to guard the inside and outside together?—Say, Master Cyril, we’re in a pretty tidy hole here, and it’ll take all we know to get out of it again.”
“Oh, we shall manage,” said Cyril sharply; “but three packs gone. That’s terrible!”
“’Tis, sir, and they’d all got in what’s of more consequence to us now than seed—a whole bag each of rice and meal, without counting delicacies in the shape o’ pepper and mustard.”
Just then there was the crackling of a match, followed by a faint glow, and the lantern shed its light around, gleaming from the running water, and showing dimly the mules standing in a group with their heads together. Then as Cyril stood waiting and watchful, he saw the lantern go on and on as if the colonel were zigzagging about to and fro, now approaching the little stream, now going right away. Sometimes the light passed beyond intervening rocks, and disappeared for a minute, then came into sight again; but there was no sign of other occupant in the great cave, whose extent was evidently vast.
“Don’t see no more o’ they bat birds buzzing about,” said Manning suddenly. “I hope they’ll come back.”
“Why?” said Cyril.
“Foodling,” growled the old soldier. “We may have to stand a siege, and it ain’t bad to know you’ve got plenty of meat and water on the spot.”
“What’s that noise?” whispered Cyril.