And so they go and come, carrying out the little boxes, until nearly a score are deposited upon the pavement of the courtyard.
The abstraction of the specie completed, the sentries set by the dining-room door, as also those sent to guard the entrance-gate, are called off; and the band becomes reunited by the treasure, as vultures around a carcass.
Some words are exchanged in undertone. Then each, laying hold of a box—there is one each for nearly all of them—and poising it upon his shoulders, strides off out of the courtyard.
Silently, and in single file, they pass across the cattle corral, on into the garden, down the central walk, and out through the gap by which they came in.
Then on to the glade where they have left their horses.
These they remount, after balancing the boxes upon their saddle-bows, and there securing them with trail-ropes.
Soon as in the saddle they move silently, but quickly away; the half-blood going along with them.
He, too, has a horse, the best in the troop—taken from the stable of the master he has so basely betrayed, so pitilessly plundered.
And that master at the moment nearly mad! Raging frantically around the room where they are left confined, nearly all the others frantic as he. For scarce any of them who has not like reason.
In the darkness groping, confusedly straying over the floor, stunned and stupified, they reel like drunken men; as they come in contact tremblingly interrogating one another as to what can have occurred.