We placed a couple o’ logs again’ the fake drawers in the library, and left Tank to take charge of the prisoners and the cabin. Then we rustled up some tarps from the bunk-shack, and prepared to camp near the openin’ with a man allus on guard, to prevent them from comin’ out—and the Friar from goin’ in. We kept a lantern lit under shelter of a rock, and made ready to rest up a bit.
I had told all the fellers to watch the Friar close, for he just simply couldn’t get the upper hand of himself. He tried his best to simmer down and go to sleep, but every few minutes he’d boil over again. I lay awake in my tarp watchin’ him for some time; but I was so sore and weary myself I could scarcely recall what business I was on, and first I knew I had drifted off—and been shook awake again.
Promotheus was bendin’ over me with the news ’at the Friar had decided to go into the tunnel, and they couldn’t hold him back. I sprang up and started for the opening with the rest following me. Dan Simpson had relieved The on watch and when he found what was in the Friar’s mind, he had crept down and told The, who had awakened the rest of us.
We reached the Friar, just as he was goin’ into the openin’. I called to him in a low tone; but he only shook his head. It was eleven o’clock, and the shadow from the moon had already crept out from the base o’ the cliff almost to the openin’. I saw that the Friar had took the bit; so I whispered to the others: “I am goin’ in there with him; but more ’n this would be bad. We’d be in each other’s way. Listen and watch, but do not follow us in.”
“I know the way as well as you, and we could keep side by side,” sez Promotheus; but I shook my head.
He came over to the openin’ and said in a low tone: “I haven’t time to make you understand; but—but I just have to go in with you.”
“If you come, the rest’ll come too,” sez I, exasperated.
“You fellers stay here,” sez he to them in a pleadin’ tone; “but I have reasons. I just have to go in.”
So we shed our boots and started down the incline after the Friar, Promotheus touchin’ my feet with his fingers at every step I crawled. I didn’t want to be there, I couldn’t see how we could do any good; but the Friar had made my world for me, such as it was, and I understood better ’n the rest what was gnawin’ at his heart; so I hadn’t any choice. I had to go in, and somethin’ inside Promotheus drove him in also. The only crumb o’ comfort I could find, lay in the fact that Horace had been winged, and so couldn’t foller us, whether he wanted to or not.