Brad found Cavendish’s hand in the darkness and gave it a hearty grip.
“Even if I am in a right tight predicament myself,” he said, “I’m sure glad my pard and I concluded, after leaving Sir Augustus, to try to find out what had happened to Flavia and you. Cavendish, we may all go over the range into the unknown country beyond, but the jig’s not up, by a long shot.”
The Texan lowered his voice to a whisper.
“Listen: My pard and I both got into this valley, though I was the only one seen. If those cutthroats hadn’t been miserable bad shots, I’d been peppered full of holes. They shot all round me. Then something tripped me as I was scooting, and they had me before I could recover. Here I am; but Dick Merriwell is somewhere out in the valley, and I’ll wager every hoof on the Bar Z that we hear from him before morning. You want to hold yourself ready to move a whole lot lively when he takes a hand in the game, for he plays his cards to win and makes no false moves. You hear me chirp!”
The mists of early night had dissolved in the valleys. Above the hills the pale stars glittered as the night wore on. Donatus, the Suliote, still reclined by the fire, his head pillowed on the saddle. Over him a faithful follower had spread a blanket to protect him from the cool night air.
The fire sank lower. Even Maro, with his heart of fire, had at last fallen into slumber.
The guard who had passed before the mouth of the cave, now unreached by the firelight, seemed grown weary, for he made his beat with less frequence and regularity. Once he disappeared for such a length of time that Buckhart was tempted, for all of the danger of being shot, to peer forth. But before the Texan brought himself to the point of risking the peril the guard reappeared, a blanket wrapped about him, pacing with slow step across the opening.
Flavia slept, her head pillowed on Cavendish’s lap. The Englishman had removed his coat and spread it over her.
“Poor girl!” he muttered, as he did so. “It’s a beastly shame! She’ll get her death in this blooming hole!”
“Death isn’t the worst thing that can happen to her,” said the Texan, in a whisper. “But we’ll hope for better luck. Cavendish, I’m sure afraid something has happened to my pard. I’m afraid to wait longer for him to move. Are you in for taking a chance?”