Percy was at last induced, though not very willingly, to consent to Lionel’s making the attempt he proposed.
They all three sat down on the ground to talk over the matter, and agreed that it would not be wise to commence operations until later on in the night.
Fortunately Percy had a match-box, for the Zulus had not rifled their pockets, and striking a light, he ascertained that it was about eleven o’clock.
“We cannot have a better time,” said Denis, “so we’ll set to work immediately; but I say, we must keep talking, lest that black guard of ours should open his ears and suspect something.”
They accordingly all three began talking as if holding some exciting discussion, Denis every now and then giving way to a hearty laugh.
Percy tried to imitate him, but did not succeed very well, for he was exceedingly anxious about Lionel’s undertaking, which he thought more dangerous than it really was. Having no tools except their knives, the operation was a long one. They cut through the lower part of the twigs, and had to scrape away the earth with their hands. Only two could work at a time, and they took it by turns, the third sitting near the door to hide his companions or give notice, should the guard awake and look in.
“We shall be through in another minute!” exclaimed Lionel. “Hurrah, it is done now!” he cried out soon afterwards. “I can be through in a moment. What is the old fellow at the door about?”
“He is still snoring away,” answered Percy.
“Well, then, do you and Denis keep talking and laughing, and I’ll slip out.”
“But do come back if you find any difficulty in making your way to the horses,” said Percy. “It would be far better that we should submit to whatever the prince intends than that you should run the risk of being killed.”