come.

"Does he think this here's the rigging of a ship, and want us to set
sail?" grumbled Jem. "Here, I say, what's the good of our coming
there?"

The chief stamped his foot, and made an imperious gesture, which brought
them to his side.

He pointed to a hole in the face of the precipice, and signed to them to
go in.

"Men--boat," he said, pointing, and then clapping his hand to his ear as
a distant hail came like a whisper up the gully, which was almost at
right angles to the beach.

"He wants us to hide here, Jem," said Don; and he went up to the
entrance and looked in. A hot, steamy breath of air came like a puff
into his face, and a strange low moaning noise fell upon his ear,
followed by a faint whistle, that was strongly suggestive of some one
being already in hiding.

"I suppose that's where they keeps their coals, Mas' Don," said Jem.
"So we've got to hide in the coal-cellar. Why not start off and run?"

"We should be seen," said Don anxiously. "Don't let us do anything
rash."

"But p'r'aps it's rash to go in there, my lad. How do we know it isn't
a trap, or that it's safe to go in?"

"We must trust our hosts, Jem," replied Don. "They have behaved very
well to us so far."

There was another hail from the party ashore, and still Jem hesitated.

"I don't know but what we might walk straight away, Mas' Don," he said,
glancing down at the garb he wore. "If any of our fellows saw us at a
distance they'd say we was savages, and take no notice."

"Not of our white faces, Jem? Come, don't be obstinate; I'm going on."

"Oh, well, sir, if you go on, o' course I must follow, and look arter
you; but I don't like it. The place looks treacherous. Ugh! Wurra!
Wurra! Wurra!"

That repeated word represents most nearly the shudder given by Jem
Wimble as he followed Don into the cave, the chief pointing for them to
go farther in, and then dropping rapidly down from point to point till
he was at the bottom, Jem peering over the edge of the shelf, and
watching him till he had disappeared.

"Arn't gone to tell them where we are, have he, Mas' Don?"

"No, Jem. How suspicious you are!"

"Ah, so'll you be when you get as old as I am," said Jem, creeping back
to where Don was standing, looking inward. "Well, what sort of a place
is it, Mas' Don?"

"I can't see in far, but the cavern seems to go right in, like a long
crooked passage."

"Crooked enough, and long enough," grumbled Jem. "Hark!"