Ward was quite close to the boxes upon the other side of
which crouched the night raiders. Theriere's finger found the
trigger of his revolver. He was convinced that the mate had
been disturbed by the movement in camp and was investigating.
The Frenchman knew that the search would not end
upon the opposite side of the salvage--in a moment Ward
would be upon them. He was sorry--not for Ward, but because
he had planned to carry the work out quietly and he
hated to have to muss things up with a killing, especially on
Barbara's account.
Ward stopped at one of the water casks. He tipped it up,
filling a tin cup with water, took a long drink, set the cup
back on top of the cask, and, turning, retraced his steps to
his blanket. Theriere could have hugged himself. The man had
suspected nothing. He merely had been thirsty and come over
for a drink--in another moment he would be fast asleep
once more. Sure enough, before Byrne returned with Miller
and Swenson, Theriere could bear the snores of the first mate.
On the first trip to the cliff top eight men carried heavy
burdens, Divine alone remaining to guard Barbara Harding.
The second trip was made with equal dispatch and safety. No
sound or movement came from the camp of the enemy, other
than that of sleeping men.
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