"I hope they'll eat each other up like the Kilkenny cats," observed Guy coolly.
"But you don't understand," cried the Greek in strange excitement. "They will scatter over the valley, they will flee to those rocks yonder for protection, and unless we find the entrance to that river at once we are lost."
"Canaris is right," spoke up Melton. "We must make immediate search for the rock with the cross. It is our only hope."
"Yes, our only hope," echoed the Greek. "Come quickly, there is no time to lose."
He slipped to the ground and led his companions rapidly down the valley toward the stone village.
They hastened on among the scattered rocks for a quarter of a mile or more, until the extreme southern edge was reached, and then Canaris stopped.
"This is the south side," he said; "we must search the rocks for one with a cross."
They scattered, Guy toward the west, Melton to the east. It was a time of peril, for the yellow smoke was curling up over the Lion's Head in heavier columns, and the firing was more distinct, as though the conflict were spreading toward them across the valley.
"The rock with the cross, on the south side of the stone kraal." A simple enough direction on the face of it, and yet the eager searchers, as they hurried from stone to stone, scrutinizing every side and angle, failed to discover the faintest trace of anything resembling a cross.
Canaris wrung his hands in dismay when they came together after the fruitless search.