Yet before they could gain the entrance to the tombs, the murdering Indian made his presence known!
With terrific force, a huge rock struck the ground scarce a yard in advance of the aged scout.
“You be sorry! You be sorry!” hissed Nig, shaking his fist toward the top of the cliff. “Nig know where you are, now! You on third row tombs! We got climb stair.”
As easily as though it were daylight, the aged scout sped along the face of the cliff, then suddenly darted into one of the openings and thankful, indeed, were his companions that they were tied to him.
“We go up stair,” Nig whispered. “Get down on hand and knee. No make noise!”
Obediently, the cowboys dropped to all fours and began the ascent of the old, seldom used rock steps. But though they did their best, it was impossible for them to restrain an oath or an exclamation of alarm when their hands touched some creeping thing, now and again.
“We must be pretty near the sky!” breathed Pinky after what seemed an endless climbing.
“That’s no place look for Louie,” returned the aged scout. “We be on same row in jiffy.”
Nig’s act of speaking amazed his companions. Yet it was done for the purpose of learning whether or not their quarry had surmised they might mount the stairs and be waiting to greet them with a rain of lead.
And the scheme worked to perfection!