"Now you, Cyril," said the colonel quietly.

"I can't propose anything, sir," said Cyril frankly. "It seems to me that we might pa.s.s one or two of the Indians, but the others would see or hear the mules."

"And you can propose nothing else?"

Cyril shook his head, and the colonel got up and went out of the hut, to go and walk up and down where the Indians were busy, giving first one a friendly nod, and then another, evidently to their great satisfaction.

The party in the hut watched him for a few moments, and then John Manning said:

"There aren't no better way, gentlemen, than mine. I don't want to kill none of 'em, so long as they don't try to kill me, or any of you. If they do, why, of course, it makes me feel nasty, and as if I could do anything to stop 'em."

"It's too horrid and butcher like," said Cyril firmly.

"Yes," a.s.sented Perry.

"Very well, then, gentlemen, suppose you propose a better way. It's of no use to go an' say, 'Please we're tired of staying here, and want to go,' because that only would be waste of breath."

"Yes," said Perry sadly. "We shall never get away till they give us leave."

"Hear that, Mr Cyril, sir; that's my young master, and the son of a stout soldier as never turned his back on an enemy in his life. Don't say you're going to give up like that, sir."

"No," said Cyril, setting his teeth. "I'm not going to give up, and he is not going to give up either. We'll get away somehow, though we can't see the way just now."

"That we will, sir," cried John Manning excitedly. "Bri'sh wits again'

Injun wits. Bah! who says we can't beat them? It's all right, gentlemen. I know the colonel, and have known him since he was a slip of an ensign, and I was not much more than a raw Johnny of a boy fresh from the awkward squad. I say I know the colonel, and he's only been leading us on. Wait till to-morrow night. He's got some dodge or another ready to fire off, and this time two days we shall be on our way back, and the Injuns'll be howling like mad, because they can't make out which way we've gone."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

PERRY'S HORROR.

"How do you feel, Cil?" said Perry, in the middle of that same night.

"Horrible. Can't sleep. I am hot and itchy, and all of a fidget about things."

"Father said we were to take things coolly, when he said good-night."

"Didn't say how, did he?" whispered Cyril. "I shall be so glad when we begin doing something. Anything's better than this waiting to begin. I say--"

"Yes."

"Isn't it near morning?"

"No, it ain't," said a gruff voice in an ill-used tone. "How's a man to get a good sleep before he relieves the colonel, if you two young gents keep on twisting about and talking?"

"All right, we'll be quiet now."

"Ay, do, my lads. Get a good sleep, and have a nap or two to-morrow, for we shall be travelling all night."

There was silence for the rest of the time in the little camp, broken only by a weary sigh or two, for no sleep came to the restless lads; and the next morning found them red-eyed and feverish in spite of the bathe they had in the intensely cold water of the neighbouring mountain rill.

And all that day they were on the strain, and constantly on the watch for the colonel, hoping that he would become communicative. But he was very quiet, and spent the greater part of the day either sleeping or pretending, and lounging about watching the Indians busy cutting down trees, or peeling the boughs and twigs.

John Manning, too, looked wonderfully lazy, and avoided the boys, who at last began to look at each other in despair.

"I can't make it out," said Perry at last. "We are not going to-night, or father would have said something--don't you think so?"

"Don't know."

"But you don't think we can be going?"

"I think we are," replied Cyril, "and they are doing all this to throw the Indians off their guard."

Dinner-time came, for which meal John Manning had prepared a very satisfactory dish from some charqui flavoured with fruit and vegetables, and the boys anxiously waited again for some communication from the colonel. But he was still reticent, and after the meal was over, Diego and his companion were summoned and left to clear the tin bowl which did duty as a dish, a duty they always carried out to perfection, never leaving it so long as there was a sc.r.a.p to finish.

Then came the long, hot, weary afternoon, which the two boys started to pa.s.s under the boughs of a st.u.r.dy tree, both feeling their irritability increase as they listened to the crackling and breaking of wood near at hand, and the murmur of voices from the Indians, who kept on busily with their work.

There was a humming noise in the air, as the insects darted here and there in the hot afternoon sunshine; and from where the two lads lay, they could see the mountains slope down rapidly into the long deep valley, filled now with a soft golden haze, while the air was delicious with the aromatic perfume shed by the trees around.

Cyril felt hot, feverish, and weary still, but at the same time, as he lay there, it seemed as if that valley at his feet was very beautiful with the sun lighting it up from end to end, and that it would be a pity to start that night, before he had had a good restful sleep, and then-- directly after it seemed to him--he felt vexed with Perry for worrying and shaking him. The next moment he started up to find that the valley below looked dark, and the sun was on the other side of the mountains, while the colonel was standing over him, smiling.

"That's better, boys," he said. "I'm glad that you have both had a good rest. You will be all the fresher for your walk."

"Then you are going to-night, sir?"

"Hush! Yes; of course.--Perry."

"Yes, father."

"Don't go away, either of you, and you must not look excited. Come and have supper--it is ready--and then wait about by the hut while the guides have theirs. You will take no notice of anything, but loiter about outside while John Manning and I act. But be ready to help, if I call upon you."

"We'll do all you wish, sir," said Cyril excitedly.

"Then do it calmly," said the colonel. "Mind this, the Indians must not have a suggestion that shall make them suspicious. To them everything must seem as if we were patiently submitting to our rather easy captivity. Come."

The colonel led the way back to the fire, close to which their meal was spread by John Manning, and as the boys drew nearer, they saw that Diego and his companion were hanging about as if wondering why they had not been summoned sooner to partake of the meal.

"Yes, we're late," said the colonel aloud, and setting the example, he took his place and began to eat as calmly as if nothing important was on the way.

"Come, boys," he said quietly, "make a good meal, and don't look anxious; there are some of the Indians coming up. Recollect what I said."

Cyril tried to act his part, and said something in a laughing way to Perry, but it fell very flat. Still, there was nothing in the scene to attract attention, and though they were all aware that work for the day had long ceased near the huts, and the Indians who were not partaking of their simple meal, were strolling about, and many of them keenly watching the white party, no head was turned. At last the colonel asked if all were done, and then rose and signed to Diego and the other man to come and take their places.

This they did eagerly, and from where Cyril stood now in the semi-darkness, he could see the men's faces by the light of the fire, and that they were eating hungrily.

"Did you look to the mules?" said the colonel in a low voice.