Part 17 (1/2)

The flashlight showed the cavern to be hewn out of solid rock, though how high the roof was, or how wide the walls from side to side, they could not judge, for their light was not powerful enough to penetrate.

But the cave was, evidently, a big one.

Suddenly, as they walked along, Bud became aware of a growing sheen of light ahead of them. At first he thought it was but the reflection of his own torch on what might be crystals in the cave's sides or roof.

But as they walked on the glow increased.

Nort and d.i.c.k also noticed it, and Nort exclaimed:

”Guess this is more of a tunnel than a cave. I see daylight ahead.”

”'Tisn't daylight--too red for that,” objected Bud. ”Looks more like a fire.”

And, a moment later, as they rounded a turn, they saw that the light was caused by a fire. It was a fire blazing on the floor of the cavern. Over the fire, suspended on a tripod, was a black kettle, a veritable witch-caldron and, bending over it, if not a witch, was a good imitation of one. For it was the figure of an old man--a man with long, straggling white hair and a flowing white beard, as the flames revealed. It was the same old man who had called at the ranch with his sinister warning when he sold the Elixer of Life.

”Look!” murmured Bud, but he need not have said this. His two cousins were looking with all the power of their staring eyes.

”It--it's him!” murmured Nort, and the others knew what he meant.

”But what's he doing?” whispered d.i.c.k.

There was hardly need to ask that question. Undoubtedly the old man was brewing something in the kettle over the fire. There was a peculiar odor in the air, not unpleasant, but rather overpowering.

”He's making that stuff he bottles and sells,” went on d.i.c.k. ”The Elixer. And maybe----”

He did not finish the sentence. Either the cautious talk of the boy ranchers, or some noise they made carried to the sharp ears of the old man.

He started back, out of the circle of light cast by the fire under the kettle. He seemed to be alarmed.

”Who's there?” he cried.

The boys did not answer. They did not know what to do. It was all so strange and startling.

A moment later the queer hermit, for such he seemed to be, had s.n.a.t.c.hed the kettle off the chain by which it was suspended. With a quick motion of his foot he scattered the embers of the fire so that immediate section of the cave was obscured by smoke and fantastic shadows. Then the old man ran back into the darkness of the far reaches of the cavern and disappeared from view.

”There he goes!” cried Nort. There was no longer need of whispering.

”After him!” cried d.i.c.k.

”No! Don't go!” exclaimed Bud. ”You don't know what he was doing, what he may be up to nor where he's gone. It isn't safe!”

This last was so evident that Nort and d.i.c.k at once agreed to the proposition and halted. But d.i.c.k added:

”We don't know, for sure what he was doing, but I can pretty near guess!”

”What?” asked Bud.

”He was brewing stuff to poison our cattle. He's the fellow that's been doing it. He's the cause of all the trouble at Dot and Dash. We ought to have him arrested, and we've got good proof against him!”

”What proof?” Bud asked.

”The bottles of stuff he sold us. Lucky we didn't take any of it!