“I wondered what had become of you. Did you get lost?”
“No. The odd thing is that these caves are up about twenty feet from a ridge of rock, and can’t be got at without a ladder. I tried to mount, but the wall is almost flat.”
“I’ll go and have a look. How do you get there?”
“Down the hill a little way, turn to the right, go along the ridge, and look up. The caves are about halfway between the ridge and the top of the hill.”
Oliphant followed these directions, and by and by returned, with his trousers cut in several places.
“I tried to climb up,” he explained, “but couldn’t manage it. I think it could be done, though, with practice.”
“Which we haven’t time for.”
The discovery of the caves had occupied some little time, and furnished material for speculation and talk that helped to relieve the tedium of waiting. But their patience had well nigh given out when night once more descended and still Abdul had not returned. The two were eating their supper in moody silence when they heard suddenly the sound of a stone rattling down the hillside. They seized their revolvers and sprang up, waiting for another sound. Clearly some one, man or animal, was climbing the hill. All was again silent; then, from some point beyond them, came the sound of a high-pitched voice.
“It’s Abdul. Thank goodness!” cried Oliphant, with a laugh. “Come on, you laggard, and give an account of yourself.”
“You have been a long time, Abdul,” said Tom, as that young Moor came through the darkness.