Chapter Thirty Four.
Hard Pressed.
Day broke, and the sun rose, displaying a sight that disheartened many of the occupants of the rock; for far out on the plain, and well beyond the reach of rifle-bullets, there was troop after troop of Indian warriors riding gently here and there, as if to exercise their horses, but doubtless in pursuance of some settled plan.
The Doctor inspected them carefully through his glass, to try and estimate their numbers, and he quite came to the conclusion that they intended to invest the rock fortress, and if they could make no impression in one way, to try and starve out its occupants.
“We must make sure, once for all, Bart, that we have no weak points—no spot by which these Indian wretches can ascend and take us in the rear. Suppose you take the Beaver and two of his men with you, ascend the mountain, and make a careful inspection.”
“But that would hardly be so satisfactory, sir, as if we went all round the base first to make sure that there is no way up from the plain.”
“No, I know that,” replied the Doctor; “but that is too dangerous a task.”
“I’m beginning to like dangerous tasks now, sir,” said Bart; “they are so exciting.”
“Well, go then,” said the Doctor; “but you must be mounted, or you will have no chance of retreat; and of course you will all keep a sharp look-out in case the Indians swoop down.”