The person appeared to be searching for some particular object, for by running his hand along the shelves, he threw multitudinous pieces of broken stalactites to the ground, from which emanated ringing sounds as they struck.
But one person to all appearances tenanted the cavern, and the twain in the corridor listened intently until they were startled by sounds in their rear.
Silver Rifle clutched the Destroyer’s arm.
He instantly divined the cause of the gripe, for he had been listening to the sounds before they became so distinct as to cause alarm.
“Indians in our rear, and the cavern,” she whispered. “What is to be done?”
“Much, and that quickly,” was the low reply. “This fellow in the cave is approaching. What can he be looking for?”
“Heaven knows,” breathed Silver Rifle; “he must know that we have lately vacated the cave, else he would use a torch. But—”
The Destroyer’s hand closed gently over her mouth, and broke the sentence, and the next moment she felt him leave her side.
A cry of surprise, the fall of a heavy body quickly followed the leap, and the short, sharp struggle that succeeded was quickly over.
The girl sprung forward and landed at White Tiger’s side.