For nearly half an hour they kept the coat spread, holding it close
around the edges of the aperture with their heads, hands, knees, and
elbows. Withal some of the bitter smoke found ingress, torturing their
eyes, and half stifling them.
They bore it with philosophic fortitude and in profound silence, using
their utmost efforts to refrain from sneezing or coughing.
They knew that the least noise heard by the Indians above--anything to
indicate their presence in the shaft--would ensure their destruction.
The fumigation would be continued till the savages were certain of its
having had a fatal effect. If they could hold out long enough, even
Indian astuteness might be baffled.
From what Wilder had heard, their persecutors were in doubt about their
having descended into the shaft; and this uncertainty promised to be
their salvation. Unless sure that they were taking all this trouble to
some purpose, the red men would not dally long over their work.
Besides, there was the rich booty to be drawn from the captured waggons,
which would attract the Indians back to them, each having an interest in
being present at the distribution.
Thus reasoned Walt Wilder as they listened to detect a change in the
performance, making use of all their ears.
Of course they could see nothing, no more than if they had been immured
in the darkest cell of an Inquisitorial dungeon. Only by their ears
might they make any guess at what was going on. These admonished them
that more of the burning brush was being heaved into the hole. Every
now and then they could hear it as it went swishing past the door of
their curtained chamber, the stalks and sticks rasping against the rocks
in their descent.
After a time these sounds ceased to be heard; the Indians no doubt
thinking that sufficient of the inflammatory matter had been cast in to
cause their complete destruction. If inside the cavern, they must by
this time be stifled--asphyxiated--dead.
So must have reasoned the red-skinned fumigators; for after a while they
desisted from their hellish task. But, as if to make assurance doubly
sure, before taking departure from the spot, they performed another act
indicative of an equally merciless intention.
During the short period of silence their victims could not tell what
they were about. They only knew, by occasional sounds reaching them
from above, that there was some change in the performance; but what it
was they could not even shape a conjecture.
The interregnum at length ended with a loud rumbling noise, that was
itself suddenly terminated by a grand crash, as if a portion of the
impending cliff had become detached, and fallen down upon the platform.
Then succeeded a silence, unbroken by the slightest sound. No longer
was heard either noise or voice--not the murmur of one.
It was a silence that resembled death; as if the vindictive savages had
one and all met a deserved doom by being crushed under the falling
cliff.
For some time after hearing this mysterious noise, which had caused the
rock to tremble around them, the two men remained motionless within
their place of concealment.
At length Wilder cautiously and deliberately pushed aside the curtain.
At first only a small portion of it--a corner, so as to make sure about
the smoke.
It still oozed in, but not so voluminously as at first. It had
evidently become attenuated, and was growing thinner. It appeared also
to be ascending with rapidity, as up the funnel of a chimney having a
good draught. For this reason it was carried past the mouth of the
grotto without much of it drifting in, and they saw that they could soon
safely withdraw the curtain. It was a welcome relaxation from the
irksome task that had been so long imposed upon them, and the coat was
at length permitted to drop down upon the ledge.
Although there were no longer any sounds heard, or other signs to
indicate the presence of the Indians, the fugitives did not feel sure of
their having gone; and it was some time before they made any attempt to
reascend the shaft. Some of the pursuers might still be lurking near,
or straying within sight. They had so far escaped death, as if by a
miracle, and they were cautious of again tempting fate. They determined
that for some time yet they would not venture out upon the ledge, but
keep inside the grotto that had given them such well-timed shelter.
Some sulky savage, disappointed at not getting their scalps, might take
it into his head to return and hurl down into the hole another shower of
stones. Such a whim was probable to a prairie Indian.
Cautious against all like contingencies, the guide counselled his
younger companion to patience, and for a considerable time they remained
without stirring out of their obscure chamber.
At length, however, perceiving that the tranquillity continued, they no
longer deemed it rash to make a reconnoissance; and for this purpose
Walt Wilder crawled out upon the ledge and looked upward. A feeling of
surprise, mingled with apprehension, at once seized upon him.
"Kin it be night?" he asked, whispering the words back into the grotto.
"Not yet, I should think?" answered Hamersley. "The fight was begun
before daybreak. The day can't all have passed yet. But why do you
ask, Walt?"
"Because thar's no light comin' from above. Whar's the bit o' blue sky
we seed? Thar ain't the breadth o' a hand visible. It can't a be the
smoke as hides it. That seems most cleared off. Darned if I can see a
steim o' the sky. 'Bove as below, everything's as black as the ten o'
spades. What kin it mean?"
Without waiting a reply, or staying for his companion to come out upon
the ledge, Wilder rose to his feet, and, grasping the projecting points
above his head, commenced swarming up the shaft, in a similar manner as
that by which he had made the descent.
Hamersley, who by this time had crept out of the grotto, stood upon the
ledge listening.
He could hear his comrade as he scrambled up; the rasping of his feet
against the rocks, and his stentorian breathing.
At length Walt appeared to have reached the top, when Hamersley heard
words that sent a thrill of horror throughout his whole frame.
"Oh!" cried the guide, in his surprise, forgetting to subdue the tone of
his voice, "they've built us up! Thar's a stone over the mouth o' the
hole--shettin' it like a pot lid. A stone--a rock that no mortal ked
move. Frank Hamersley, it's all over wi' us; we're buried alive!"