“But what about the torches?”
“Got plenty for both, and two men have got mine lanterns alight under their gaberdines. Better pass round torches for your men now.”
Ralph agreed that this would be best, and Mark summoned Dummy with a faint bird-like chirrup, and made him bring the links.
Then at a word, Mark’s men sprang up, and after marking down the spot below the dimly-seen top of the mountain-limestone ridge, beneath which, half-way down, as they well knew, the cavern lay, the two parties marched on in silence side by side, pausing every few minutes, in response to a shrill chirp, while the leaders took a few paces ahead to make a keen observation and whisper a few words.
“All still,” said Ralph, after the last of these pauses, which took place where the slope had grown steep, and they had about a quarter of a mile to go upward to reach the entrance to the cavern.
“Are you sure we’re aiming right?” whispered Mark.
“Certain. The hole is below that sharp point you can see against the sky. I remember it so well. Saw it when the men had surrounded us, and the captain was making signs.”
“Keep on, then,” whispered Mark. “Let’s get one on each side of the mouth, light our torches, and rush in. We’ll go in side by side, and the men must follow as they can.”
The march upward in the darkness was resumed almost without a word, but no regular lines could be kept to now, on account of the blocks of stone projecting, rough bushes, and cracks and deep crevices, which became more frequent as they progressed. Then, too, here and there they came upon heaps of broken fragments which had fallen from above, split away by the frosts of winter.
Hearts beat high from excitement and exertion, for the slope grew more steep now, and an enemy would have been at great advantage above them, if bent on driving them back.