“Stop him!” screamed a man.
“Stop him!” echoed the crowd, suddenly realizing that they had voices. After him they went, but the chase was slow. It was only a narrow trail, which broke off to the sharp cliffs below it. Beyond them went the Saint, with the sure-footedness of a mountain goat, traveling at a pace that none dared imitate.
Duke and Luck followed closely. Duke had forgotten that he was also being hunted by the crowd, and it is doubtful if any of the crowd knew or cared about him now.
“He’s got to go into the Silver Shell tunnel!” yelled a man. “That’s the end of the trail.”
Beyond this tunnel was a wide crevice in the cliffs, which extended back into the mountain. It was impossible to go beyond the tunnel, either up or down. The Saint had trapped himself. Stumbling along this trail came the crowd, or as many as dared to trust this narrow pathway in the tricky moonlight until they reached the wide ledge which constituted the mouth of the Silver Shell.
“He’s bottled up,” cried a miner, “but it ain’t goin’ to help Sleed none!”
“There’s a cross-cut tunnel into the Kalura,” panted a newcomer. “He’ll find that. Watch the mouth of the Kalura, I tell yuh!”
The crowd ran back along the trail, until they could look up and beyond the crevice, where the Kalura workings opened out onto a much higher ledge. From this spot it was five hundred feet straight down into Sunshine Alley.
A man cocked his rifle and leaned back against the rocky wall, but another jerked the gun away from him.