CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

  READY FOR THE WORST.

  Nature must be satisfied at whatever cost, and, as soon as possible, theprovisions were unpacked, while a fire, which had been lit with thescraps of wood collected as they returned, burned brightly, the smokedrawing farther into the cavern, and being rapidly dispersed. Then, assoon as the kettle, suspended by an iron rod over the flames, began toboil, a very small handful of tea was thrown in, and the tin lifted offand laid aside.

  Only some very wooden cake bread, and some very dry tough beef, with astrong flavour of being imperfectly sun-cured; but how delicious it waswhen washed down by the warm, unsweetened, milkless tea!

  They sat on the stones a little way inside the entrance, where the cooldampness of the cave was relieved by the soft, warm, sunny air whichfloated in from the gorge; and a sharp lookout was kept for the Indians,but not a sign betrayed their presence. A short exploration of theinterior, too, was made, but there was not a sound to be heard, save animpatient stamp or two from the mules; and, concluding that the enemyhad all left the place, the colonel returned to where he had left theboys on guard, but only to find them both fast asleep, and John Manningwalking up and down slowly by the stream, with his gun over hisshoulder.

  "Don't wake 'em, sir," said the man appealingly: "they tried very hardto hold up, but it warn't to be done; and if I hadn't got up and takento marching here on sentry-go, I should have been fast asleep too."

  "Poor fellows," said the colonel sadly, "it was too much to expect afterwhat they have gone through. There, lie down for a couple of hours, andthen I'll wake you to relieve me."

  "Begging your pardon, sir, if you'd take first turn," began the oldsoldier, but he was cut short directly by a sharp gesture, and, withouta word, he lay down with his piece in his hand, and was asleep directly.The colonel took his place, and then began to walk slowly to and fro,now right out where the sinking sun glistened upon the surface of thestream, now back inward, with the walk growing darker, till it was quiteblack.

  And as he marched to and fro, the colonel reflected upon thehopelessness of their position. As he approached the open sunshine, hefelt lighter-hearted; but as he turned and walked inward toward the coldand darkness, his spirits sank once more, and he saw no way out of theirdifficulties save the giving up of that for which he had come all thosemany thousand miles. Then he stopped short, for Cyril had suddenlysprung to his feet, looking horribly guilty and ashamed.

  "I am so sorry, sir," he faltered. "I did not mean to go to sleep."

  "You could not help it, my lad," said the colonel, laying his hand uponthe boy's shoulder. "You had reached the limit of human endurance.But, Cyril, my lad, you are being sharply punished for your madescapade."

  "Yes, sir," said the boy sadly, "and I suppose I deserve it. I shouldmind all this much less if we had arranged with my father that I shouldcome."

  "Well done, young philosopher," said the colonel, as he kept his hand onthe lad's shoulder, and marched him to and fro. "Come, as you can thinkso well, give me your advice. You know why I have come--to obtain thisseed to place in the hands of those who will cultivate it, and make theworld independent of the one source of supply."

  "Yes, sir," said Cyril wonderingly.

  "And you see the position to which I am reduced."

  "Yes, sir. Will the Indians kill us?"

  "Not without paying dearly for it," said the colonel sternly. Thenchanging his manner: "No, my lad. These people are only half-savage,and look upon what they are doing as a duty. I do not think they willkill us if they can get possession of all our baggage. They might keepus in captivity until means are taken to free us; but I don't know--Ihardly feel that our lives are safe."

  "Not very, sir," said Cyril grimly, "if they rolled big stones. Itmight have been us instead of the mules this morning."

  "Yes, we have had some narrow escapes; but what shall I do now--give upand own that I am beaten?"

  "And let them have the kina seed, sir? No, that I wouldn't; I'd fightfor it first," cried Cyril excitedly.

  "Do you know what you are talking about?" said the colonel excitedly.

  "Yes, sir," cried Cyril, "I was very much down a while ago; but I've hadsomething to eat now, and a sleep and--What! give up to a pack ofsavages, and let them rob you of all we have worked so hard to get?That I wouldn't while there was a charge of powder left."

  "Humph!" ejaculated the colonel, looking at the boy searchingly.

  "That's what my father would say if he were here. I wish he were."

  "To thrash you for leaving home in that cowardly way?"

  "No, sir," said Cyril quietly. "My father never thrashed me, and henever would. He always said it was degrading a boy to beat him, andthat he was a poor parent who could not rule his children without blows.He told me he thought he could hurt me a good deal more by his words,and so he always could."

  "Perhaps so, sir," said the colonel sternly; "but see what a mistake hehas made, and what a miserable young dog you have turned out."

  Cyril was silent for a few moments.

  "I hope I'm not all bad, sir," he said. "I'm sure I've bitterlyrepented what I have done."

  "And been severely punished, too, my lad," said the colonel kindly."Your father is quite right, and when I tell him how you have behaved--as, please God, I hope I shall--if he is the man I believe him to be, hewill shake hands with you as I do now, and say, `Let's forget thepast!'"

  "Colonel Campion!" cried Cyril, snatching at the hand extended to him.

  He could say no more, for something seemed to rise in his throat andchoke him, while the colonel rested his arm affectionately upon hisshoulder once more, and walked him up and down toward the light and backagain.

  "So you'd fight for it and stand out, eh?" said the colonel at last.

  "Yes, sir, that I would," cried Cyril excitedly, "and I'm sure Perrywill say the same."

  The colonel was silent for a few moments, gazing straight before himinto the darkness, and he asked himself whether he would be justified inrunning all these risks. He shook his head, and they turned and marcheddown again toward the light, where the rippling stream looked rosy inthe evening, and the rocks on the other side of the gorge were allaglow. And there was so much in the brightness and hope and prospect ofsuccess that the feelings of dread, the shrinking from a terribleordeal, and all hesitation fled away.

  "Yes," he said firmly as he stopped short; "a civilian might hesitateand give up, but I cannot, my lad. I determined to carry out this task,believing that by it I should vastly benefit suffering humanity atlarge, and Heaven helping me, I will achieve my aims."

  "And you will fight it out, sir?" cried Cyril.

  "I will, my boy, to the bitter end. I made the Indians fear me, and ifthey attack us now, they shall fear me more, for I have our lives tosave as well. Now, go and lie down."

  "No, sir, I don't feel sleepy; let me watch with you."

  "You are a soldier for the time being, my lad, and if we are to succeed,discipline must be observed. In an hour's time I rouse up John Manningto relieve me, and toward morning, when you are rested and refreshed,you shall be called to take your watch."

  Cyril lay down without a word, meaning to think out all that had beensaid, and feeling happier than he had since he left home. But he didnot think, for in a few seconds after he had stretched his weary limbsupon the rocky floor, all the corners and points of his bed became softas eider-down, and he dropped into a deep dreamless sleep, leaving thecolonel seated on a rock, leaning forward with his gun between his legs,and his form looking black against the soft glowing light at theentrance of the cave.