“What’s that?” whispered Esau, with his eyes staring, and his mouth partly opened.
I shook my head.
“Some one a-watching us,” he whispered. “Here, let’s dive right in among the trees and see.”
But I held his arm, and we stood in that beautiful wild ravine, listening to the rippling of the water, and peering in among the tall pines, expecting to see the man who had made the sound.
“I say,” whispered Esau, “I can’t see or hear anything. Ain’t it rather rum?”
He said “rum,” but he looked at me as if he thought it very terrible, with the consequence that his fear was contagious, and I began to feel uncomfortable as we kept looking at each other.
“Shall we run?” whispered Esau.
At another time such an idea would not have occurred to him. The forest and the streams that run up the valleys were always solitary, but we felt no particular dread when going about, unless we saw the footmarks of bears. But now that we were in possession of the secret of the gold, the same idea of our being watched impressed us both, and we turned cold with fear, and all because we had heard that faint blow on the ground.
I don’t know whether I looked pale as I stood by Esau, when he asked me if we should run, but I do know that the next moment I felt utterly ashamed of myself, and in the reaction—I suppose to conceal my shame for my cowardice—I struck Esau heavily on the shoulder and made a false start.
“Run—run—the Fort!” I cried. Esau bounded off, and I hung back watching him till he turned to see me standing there laughing, when he stopped short, looking at me curiously, and then came slowly to where I was.