“What I’d like to do,” Dick cut in sharply, “is to run away—get out of this mess somehow.”
“How we swim river?” Toma wanted to know. “No chance build raft.”
“What about our own raft?” Sandy wondered. “Do you suppose they’ve overlooked that?”
“I’ll give them more credit for brains than that,” was Dick’s opinion. “I don’t think we ought to consider it.”
He paused for a moment, his brow wrinkling in thought.
“The only other way of escape is across the ravine, and I’m willing to bet they have sentries posted every hundred yards.”
“Very probably,” Sandy agreed, “but even at that there’s a possibility that we could make it. After dark there might be a chance. It’s better than staying here.”
“In our present hopeless position,” said Dick calmly, “I’ll try anything.”
“What about you, Toma?”
The young Indian drew himself up proudly.