This last was yet one more attempt. Its result was, if possible, still more unexpected. The echo actually stuttered:
“Hello, up th-th-th-there!”
“Good Lord, what next?” gasped one of the yearlings.
“G-g-good Lord, wh-what n-n-next-t!” muttered the cliff.
But that time the matter had gone just a little too far. Human credulity has its limits; you cannot fool all the people all the time has crystallized into a proverb. And so just about then some of the shrewder of the crowd began to get a little bit suspicious and to look around, either for a hiding place for that mischievous echo-maker or for a ventriloquist among their own party.
This Mark did not fail to observe. He turned to his companions.
“See here,” he whispered. “Fellows, they’ll soon be on to this.”
“Do you know,” he continued, “there’s no use in our trying to keep this cave a secret, anyhow. Bull knows of it and he’ll be sure to tell ’em in the end. I say we have some more fun now.”
“Yes!” cried Texas. “I say so, too, whoop! Doggone their boots! Let’s climb out an’ go for ’em. I’m jest itching for a rousin’ ole scrap!”
Mark smiled at his wild chum’s excitement.