Hannigan bounced from his blankets like a redheaded ball of rubber. He was on his feet, scrubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands, even before he knew he was awake.
"Smatta? Whuzzup, Greg? Smatta?"
"Below!" roared Greg. "The party in the valley—they're in trouble of some kind! Get your gun and come on!"
VI
The others were awake now. Young Tommy was aquake with excitement. He made a headlong dash for the dry niche wherein were stored the arms of the cave-dwellers, came back dragging three rifles, handed one to Greg and another to Hannigan.
"Let's get going, Greg!" he yelped. "Golly Moses, what do you think it is? Animals, maybe? Or people? Gosh, let's get going!"
Greg took the spare rifle from him firmly.
"We'll go; you stay." Then, in swift contrition as the lad's face fell measurable inches. "Someone must guard the cave while we're gone, Tommy. 'Tina, build up the fire and put a kettle on. Aunt Maud—"
The old woman nodded grimly.