“Now!” shouted Ralph suddenly. “In with them.”
There was a rush of light, and the fiery missiles flew in through the opening, falling amongst the defenders, and leaving the chamber in comparative darkness, amidst which was heard the quick tramping of feet, mingled with the yells of rage from the defenders.
The next minute, with Mark and Ralph coming last, all were outside the mouth of the cavern, grouped in two parties, with presented weapons, breathing the soft, cool night air, and waiting for the attack of their foes.
Sound after sound came from the opening, but not such as they longed with bated breath to hear. Once there was a loud order which came rolling out, and a little later a gleam of lights was seen, but no rush of footsteps, no sign of pursuit; and suddenly a voice broke the silence of the peaceful night air, as Nick Garth roared out:
“’Taren’t likely. Rats won’t show for hours after the dogs have hunted ’em in their holes.”
“Ah! might wait for a week,” growled Dan Rugg. “It’s all over for to-night.”
“They’re right, Eden,” whispered Ralph.
“Yes: they’re right,” said Mark, with a groan. “We’re beaten—beaten, like a pack of cowards. Let’s go home.”
“I did not see much cowardice,” said Ralph bitterly. “But it’s all over, and we must retreat. Give the word.”
“What! to retreat?” cried Mark passionately. “I’ll die first.”