Ten times the Comanches returned to the charge, ten times they were forced to fall back; the dead and wounded were heaped up in the cave, and the position was becoming critical.
"Halt!" Valentine shouted.
All were motionless, and then the white men and principal chiefs held a council; Curumilla had left the cave with a dozen warriors whom he had made a sign to follow him. As happens unfortunately only too often in precarious circumstances, everybody gave a different opinion, and it was impossible to come to an understanding; at this moment Curumilla appeared, followed by the warriors loaded like himself with leaves and dry wood.
"Wait a moment," Valentine said, pointing to the chief; "Curumilla has had the only sensible idea."
The others did not understand yet.
"Come, my lads," the hunter cried, "a final attack."
The Comanches rushed furiously into the passage, but a fresh discharge compelled them again to retire.
"Enough!" the Trail-hunter commanded, "that is what I wanted to know."
They obeyed, and Valentine then turned to the chief who accompanied him.
"It is plain," he said, "that this passage has no outlet; in the first moment of precipitation Red Cedar did not perceive this, else he would not have entered it; had it an outlet, the bandits, instead of remaining, would have profited by the momentary respite we granted them to escape."