“They had better begin now, for we shall need a pile of drivin’ before agreein’ to give ourselves up to sich a gang,” Jenkins said, as he flourished his revolver; but the look on his face belied the words, for he understood only too well how soon the struggle must be ended, and had no hope Captain Mansfield could return in time to aid them.
The hour which followed was passed almost in perfect silence. Each member of the party had bitter food for reflection, and all knew how soon they would be overpowered in case the enemy made a vigorous attack.
The one question which troubled them all was as to which quarter the next move might be expected from, and the boys were quite certain the blacks would confine themselves to the tunnel, since there they could at least enter without exposing themselves to the fire from the revolvers.
“I believe they’ll do——”
Gil ceased speaking very suddenly as a thin thread of blue smoke came curling down the passage, and his eyes involuntarily sought Jenkins’.
“That’s the size of it,” the mate exclaimed, as he leaped to his feet. “They’ve hit on a plan that’ll do us up in a little while without our bein’ able to stop it.”
“You mean they’re going to smoke us out?”
“Of course; can’t you see the plan has already been begun? We shall have to stay in the shaft, an’ from the top they’ll accomplish their work regardless of what we may do to the prisoners.”
Even while Jenkins was speaking the smoke increased in volume, and before five minutes passed all the party were standing at the entrance of the tunnel trying to free their eyes and lungs from the stifling vapor.
“There they come,” Nelse cried, and at that instant half-a-dozen spearlike clubs were thrown, two of them striking so near Jenkins that the sleeve of his coat was torn into shreds.