“And the mules and their loads?”
“There are our mules,” said the captain quietly.
“No, no; I mean ours,” cried Cyril.
“I have seen no others. There are none here.”
“But they’ve taken the kinia seed that the colonel came to collect. We must go and attack them at once.”
“We must get from here on to the regular track through the mountains as soon as we can, my boy,” said the captain sternly. “We do not know whether we may not ourselves be attacked by a strong body of the Indians. I cannot do as I like, for I must study my friends; but if I could, I would not run any risk in the face of such odds: so if Colonel Campion can by any possibility sit a mule, we shall begin our retreat at once. What? Can you stand?”
“Yes, father. Only a little giddy; and I want to see the colonel and John Manning.”
For Cyril had raised himself to his feet, and his father led him at once to where his companions lay close by, where their rescuers had formed their temporary camp, and were now making a hearty meal.
Perry was lying back with his head bandaged, John Manning was suffering from a severe knife wound, and the colonel lay looking very hollow of cheek, for he also in the fight had received a bad knife thrust, and to Cyril it seemed that it would be impossible for the party to begin their retreat for some days to come.
But as soon as he awoke, the colonel declared himself able to sit a mule, and John Manning insisted upon the hurt he had received being merely a scratch; so, as the case was urgent, a start was made that same afternoon, and a few miles made before they were overtaken by night, and encamped, setting a careful watch in case of attack.