What was to hinder the blacks and himself from beating a noiseless retreat by way of this same window? The aperture was quite ample in size to admit of their squeezing through it. But—his wounded arm! And could the thing be done without attracting the attention of the gang about the doors?
He climbed up the image and looked out. So far as he could discover the way was clear. Between that end of the temple and the stairs leading to the pit, not a single native was to be seen. True, his view was but limited at the best—the aperture was so narrow, and a straggling blackskin or two might, after all, have their eyes on the window, or, worse still, be guarding the stairs. Probably, though—and this seemed the more likely view—the entire force and attention of the belligerents were concentrated upon the temple doors. He would risk it, anyhow!
Once gain the pit, and they were as good as saved; for by that time the rescue party could not be far off.
A wilder shout from the besiegers recalled his thoughts and eyes to the doors. He scrambled down off the idols head and ran into the outer chamber.
What was that peculiar crackling sound—this pungent odour with which the air had suddenly grown so heavy? Fire—smoke! They had set fire to the doors!
He ran back into the inner chamber. The blacks were there, cowering in terror against the wall. In a few hurried words he directed them how to proceed. They pulled themselves together and prepared to obey the sahib's directions.
“The window, lads! through the window! Quick now, you lazy beggars!”
Spottie went first—somewhat unwillingly, it must be confessed, which was scarcely to be wondered at, considering that the drop from the window might land him in the arms of the enemy, or on the point of a spear. The smallness of the aperture, its height from the ground, and the necessity for going through it feet foremost, made a triple difficulty, too. But with Jack's assistance this was speedily overcome, and Spottie dropped out of sight. Barring the faint thud of his bare feet on the rock, no sound followed. Thus far, then, the stratagem had escaped detection. Jack began to breathe easier.
After Spottie went Puggles—with even more difficulty, for, as the reader is aware, Puggles was extremely fat; and again all was still without. Within there was noise enough and to spare. The crackling of the burning doors had grown ominously loud. As Pug's black head disappeared, too, a tremendous shout burst from the rabble gathered about the entrance. Its significance Jack did not stop to inquire. Already he had scaled the image. A wry face or two at the pain of his wounded arm, and a moment later he stood beside the blacks.
The moment of their flight was well chosen. The natives, to a man, were watching the doors with all their eyes.