Walking in single file, and keeping firm hold of each other's garments lest they should be separated, the little party began the last stage of the journey.
The Indian went forward as if familiar with all the surroundings, and when half an hour had passed he halted only long enough to point ahead where, through the foliage, could be seen the city, its buildings gleaming ghostly white in the starlight.
The decisive moment had arrived.
If they should be seen by a single person the alarm would be given, for the clothing as well as the skin of all the party, save Poyor, would proclaim the fact that these newcomers belonged to the hated race, and the end could not be long delayed.
Assuring himself that there was no one in sight, Poyor quickened his pace, leading the way toward a small building on the outskirts of the town, and ten minutes later, the strangers were inside the dwelling; but although successful in the undertaking, were virtually prisoners.
The house was very small as compared with the majority of those seen by the boys when they gazed from a distance, and had evidently been unoccupied a long while.
The one room which comprised the entire lower floor was destitute of anything in the way of furniture, and the sides, ceiling and floor were formed of the same soft-looking white stone which appeared to be the only building material in the city.
Poyor did not give his companions much time in which to inspect this portion of the building. With an impatient gesture to the boys who were gazing around them in evident disappointment, he led the way up a narrow flight of stairs to a sort of attic hardly more than six feet high, and with only two narrow slits in the wall to serve as windows.
Here five hammocks had been slung, and on one of them the Indian threw himself without a word of rejoicing or comment upon the ease and safety with which they had entered the city.
"Now what is to be done?" Neal asked as Cummings started toward the stairway.