The horses were secluded in the woods to the south of the camp, the direction they would need to flee in the train if everything turned to shit. They had less than two hours before the sun fell behind the mountains to the west. It wouldn’t be sundown completely, but it wouldn’t be direct sunlight either, and there was a better than good chance Archaics would exit the mine when the sun set. Hollister wanted to be ready.
Carefully he and Chee pulled the cart toward the building. They went as quietly as possible, and Monkey Pete had thought of everything, even greasing the wheels so they wouldn’t squeak as they rolled over the rough terrain. Hollister studied the entrance to the mine shaft with the spyglass again for several minutes. He wasn’t sure how far down into the mine the Archaics might go during the day and he hoped like hell they didn’t stay close to the opening so any sentries might spot them. But he couldn’t tell. The entrance was too dark and shrouded in shadow. He toyed with the idea of just dynamiting the entrance and trapping them all inside.
But such a plan had flaws. It wasn’t likely to kill the Archaics and they could dig their way out. And if some were standing guard near the entrance Hollister and Chee would certainly be spotted, then all bets would be off.
“Shaniah,” he said. “Can you see anyone inside there? Is there any way for you to tell if there is someone near the entrance who might see us?”
She peered through the telescope for several seconds. Her eyesight, hearing, and sense of smell were superior to his. As near as she could tell, there was no one close to the entrance.
“I don’t see or hear anyone,” she said.
“All right, we’ve got to move it anyway,” Hollister said. “Let’s go, Chee.”
With as much stealth as they could muster, they rolled the cart toward the small building. There was no door left in the frame, so they pushed the cart right inside. Part of the wall facing the mine entrance had collapsed, an unbelievably lucky advantage as it gave the Gatling a wide and open field of fire yet a level of concealment. It would do the same for the Fire Shooters. Hollister took one of the cases of dynamite and a pouch full of ammo for the Henry and hefted them over his shoulder.
“This is it, Sergeant,” he said. “Make every shot count.”
“Yes, sir,” Chee said. Hollister scratched Dog on the ears. This time the giant beast didn’t growl or pull away.
“Well, look at that,” Hollister said. “I’m probably going to die in ten minutes and now he decides he likes me.”
“He’s very particular,” Chee said. “I think you’ve grown on him.”
Again, Hollister couldn’t tell if Chee was joking or not. And it was getting damned annoying.
“Sergeant, if we survive this, I swear to God, I’m going to figure you out. And your damn Dog too,” Hollister said.
“I doubt it, sir,” Chee said.
And then he smiled.