“Golly knows ah’m willin’,” breathed Jumbo.
Snugly hidden in the thick growth into which the canoes had been dragged, the two Scouts and the negro discussed the situation. It was a desperate one. For the present, at least, Hunt and his party dominated it. One unpleasant thought, too, kept obtruding itself. The party in the cave had no water.
“And Hunt says he won’t blast it open for two days, anyhow,” put in Hiram; “I suppose he figures that the major would be too weak to oppose him then.”
“Guess that’s it. What a rascal that Hunt is! But what are we going to do to help them? We can’t move that rock, and we’ve got nothing to blast it away with.”
Tubby’s face showed the dismay, the almost despair, that he felt.
“Tell you what, Hiram,” he said at length, “you’ll have to take one of the canoes and get off down the lake. When you reach the foot of it make a dash to the westward, where there is a village. I’ll wait here with Jumbo till you return.”
“But it will take two days, at least, maybe a week,” objected Hiram.
“Can’t be helped. We’ve got to do something. You are lighter and can travel quicker than I. Take food and a rifle and get through as quick as you can.”
Ten minutes later the red canoe, well stocked with food, and paddled by the young Scout, shot out from the shore. By hugging the rim of the lake the boys had figured that he would be able to undertake the first stage of his journey without running much risk of being seen by their enemies. Besides, it was unlikely that Hunt or his cronies would be keeping a very keen lookout as they evidently believed that all the party was imprisoned in the cave.
Tubby and Jumbo watched the canoe while it remained in sight, and then returned to their hiding place. Toward the middle of the afternoon they saw smoke on the cliff top and well back from the edge.