“What shall we do?”
“God help us!—I know not. Once on our track they will hunt us down. See there!”
To the two shadows was suddenly added a third, a fourth, a fifth, then a sixth and seventh, and presently others until we counted twelve.
“All Indians except the monk,” said Pharaoh. “He is the huntsman and they are his dogs. See, they are separating again. Lad, get thy cudgel in readiness. ’Tis the best weapon we have.”
We started to our feet and gripped our staves firmly. And at the prospect of a fight my terror died away. There was no ghostly fear about things of flesh and blood. You can strike a man, but who can strike a shadow?
At that moment, over a rock to our left, appeared the face of an Indian, scarred and painted, a very devil’s face to look at. We were seen at last!