They heard the beating of their hearts, though, and a choking sensation rose to their throats as they stood in the narrow way between the two caverns, asking themselves the same question--What to do?
For they were between two fires.

The caves were in foreign occupation, that was plain enough; and the whistle had not come from young Carnach, but from some one else.
There could be no doubt about it: these were not strangers, but the smuggling crew come to life again after being dead a hundred years, if Mike was right; a crew of the present day, come to see about their stores, if Vince's was the right version.
Whichever it was, they seemed to be quite at home, for a second whistle came chirruping out of the long passage, as the boys hurried into the gloomy inner cave for safety, and this was answered by the Frenchman, who roared: "Ah, tousan tonderres! Make you cease if I come;" but all the same an answering whistle came from the outer cave.
What to do?
Where to hide?
They were hemmed in; and it was evident that either the party in the long passage was coming down, and might even now be close to the slope, or the Frenchman and the others were going to him.
It took little time to grasp all this, and almost as little to decide what to do.

The boys had but the two courses open to them--to face it out with the foreign-looking man, who seemed to be leader, and his followers; or to hide.
They felt that they dared not do the former then, and on the impulse of the moment, and as if one spirit moved them both, they decided to hide-- if they could! The inner cavern was gloomy enough, and they could only dimly make out the top of the opening above the slope; all below was deep in shadow, for the faint pearly light only bathed the roof.

But still they felt sure that if they entered from the upper entrance or from below they must be seen, unless they did one thing--and that was, carried out the idea suggested for hiding from young Carnach.
They had no time for hesitation; and any hope of its being still possible to escape by the upper passage was extinguished by a clinking noise, as of a big hammer upon stone, coming echoing out of the opening, suggestive of some novel kind of work going on up there; so, dashing to the darkest part of the cave--that close down by where the slope came from above--the boys thrust the lanthorn and tinder-box on one side and began to scoop away at the deep, loose sand near the wall.

Then, shuffling themselves down something after the fashion of a crab upon the shore, they cast the sand back over their legs and then over their breasts and faces, closing their eyes tightly, and finally shuffling down their arms and hands.
Anywhere else the manoeuvre would have been absurd to a degree; but there, in the gloom of that cavern, there was just a faint chance of any one passing up or down the slope without noticing that they were hiding, while all they could hope for now was that the heavy, dull throb, throb, of their hearts might not be heard.
Vince had covered his face with sand, but a few laboured breathings cleared his nostrils, and one of his ears was fully exposed; and as he lay he longed to do something more to conceal both himself and his companion; but he dared not stir, for the people in the outer cave were moving about, and their leader could be heard in broken English cursing angrily whoever it was that had dared to come down into his cave.
They heard enough to make them lie breathlessly, almost, waiting, while the moments seemed to be terribly prolonged; and at last Vince found himself longing for the time to come when they would be discovered, for he felt that if this terrible suspense were drawn out much longer he must spring up and shout aloud.
Possibly the two lads did not lie there much more than two minutes, but they were to Vince like an hour, before he heard the rough, domineering voice in the outer cavern cry out-- "Now, _mes enfans_, forvard march!" And there was a dull sound following, as of men's heavily booted feet shuffling and ploughing up the sand..