“No more visitors to-night,” whispered Tom.
Together we crept back—no light task—through the densely black maze, but at last we felt our way to where we had watched, when Tom, undertaking to be the first guard, I continued my journey to where Lilla, wearied out, was fast sleeping in her mother’s arms.
I told my uncle how we were situated, and then, after partaking of the refreshment he offered me, I lay down for a couple of hours’ sleep; but I’m afraid I far exceeded it before I awoke with a start to try and recall where we were. Soon after, though, I was at Tom’s side, to find that he had twice been to the cave mouth to see the sentries still posted, and the rest of the Indian party sleeping round the fire.
I should think that four hours must have elapsed, and then, at one and the same moment, I heard Tom’s whisper and saw the distant glimmer of approaching lights.
“Look out, Mas’r Harry!”
The lights grew brighter moment by moment, and then we could see once more the party of Indians coming slowly forward, headed by Garcia, upon whose fierce face the torch he carried flashed again and again.
But it soon became evident that the Indians were advancing very unwillingly; and more than once, when, alarmed by the light, one of the great birds went flapping and screaming by, there was a suppressed yell, and the men crowded together as if for mutual protection.
At last they stood together in the centre of the vault, and Garcia made a hasty survey, pausing at last by the passage, where we watched him hold up his light and peer down it, and then turn to his companions.
The conversation we could not understand, but it was evident that Garcia was urging them to follow him, and that they refused.
“Say, Mas’r Harry,” whispered Tom, “why, if we could be in the bird-chamber and fire off both guns, how those niggers would cut and run like a lot of schoolboys.”