“Don’t see them anywhere. Come on in, and we’ll hunt for ’em.”
The yearlings couldn’t tumble in fast enough. And pretty soon the majority of them were inside the cave, and running around with shouts and exclamations of amazement.
“We’ve got ’em!” cried Mark. “Forward!”
You may imagine how hilarious they were. It was a case, if ever there was such a case in the world, of “We have met the enemy and they are ours.”
Inside the victims never once suspected the plight they were in. They were roaming about the cave, exploring everything and becoming more and more enraptured. It made Texas mad that they should dare thus to take liberties with his cave, and he seized a thigh bone of a counterfeiter in his hand and vowed tragically that he’d smash the head of the first villain who dared to appear.
This fate the “villain” was apparently by no means anxious to hurry toward, for the yearlings made no effort to leave the cave. They would probably have stayed inside for the rest of the afternoon had it not been for a sudden and truly startling development.
Texas had mounted to do guard duty. That is to say, he had seized his white club and posted himself at the entrance, ready to whack at the first sign of a yearling, when all of a sudden he and his friends were horrified to hear a wild shriek from inside.
“Help! help!”
It was Rogers’ voice and a perfect babel of yells and cries succeeded it.
“Look out! He’s hidden in there!”