“Lemme go, man!” he pleaded as Reivers caught him as he staggered toward the opening. “It’s my chance, man. I can kill the cur with a rock from up here.”
“Save your strength; I’ve got use for it,” said Reivers. “Can you walk? All right. Come on, then, and don’t try to get near that gap.”
Taking MacGregor by the hand he led the way carefully around the big opening till they came to the opposite side of the mass of rocks, where the creek entered the tunnel by which Moir reached his camp. Crawling and slipping, they made their way down until they stood beside the bed of the stream.
“Now to work, Mac,” said Reivers, and seizing a rock bore it to the tunnel’s mouth and dropped it into the water.
“Aye, aye!” chuckled MacGregor, as he understood the significance of this move. “We’ll wall the curs in.”
For half an hour they laboured. Reivers carried and rolled the heaviest rocks he could move into position across the tunnel, and MacGregor staggered beneath smaller pieces to fill up the chinks. When their work was finished there was a rock wall across the mouth of the tunnel which it would have been almost impossible to tear down, especially from the inside.
It was growing dark when the task was completed, and Reivers nodded in great satisfaction.
“That’ll hold ’em long enough for my purpose, and we just made it in time,” he said. “Now come on up the mountain again, and then for the surprise.”
“The surprise, man?” panted MacGregor as he toiled up the rocks. “What are you going to do? Tell me what’s in your head?”
“Hush, hush!” laughed Reivers, pulling him up to the top. “Your position is that of the onlooker. It would spoil it for you if you knew what was going to happen.”