“No, no, Onrai, you must not say that,” said Harry. “Such an ordeal as we have just passed through is enough to make any man go under; any man but Mr. Bruce, and he is a wonder. How did you do it, Mr. Bruce?”
“By pure force of will,” said Mr. Bruce. “I felt like giving up several times, I can tell you; but a man can do a good deal, I believe, when his life and the lives of his friends depend on it. But don’t let us talk of that now. The question is, shall we retreat or advance?”
“Advance, I should say,” said Harry, “what do you say, father?”
“I am willing; but before we run into a trap again, rather let us retreat.”
“Agreed,” said Mr. Bruce.
They now rose, and stretching their legs and taking another drink of water, they advanced cautiously down the corridor; not knowing what moment their escape might be detected and the natives of this hellhole be after them again. They had not long to remain in suspense, when suddenly into the corridor rushed a mob of howling naked natives, making straight for them.
CHAPTER XXX.
THE CAVE DWELLER’S FUNERAL.
The howling mob came hurrying toward them; their faces distorted with horrible grimaces, their arms flying in the air, brandishing spears like the one found in the corridor. They came on howling, yelling and shouting in a blood-curdling way.
“Fall back, slowly,” said Mr. Bruce, “but keep in this corridor.”
They retreated slowly, keeping their faces on the approaching mob.