Part 32 (1/2)

”It begins to look as if Tozer holds the winning hand,” he angrily muttered; ”there ain't no question that the two have the younker safe, and I've no idee where to hunt fur him--but hold on!”

The conviction, or rather suspicion, that the prison of the youth was within the canyon returned to the hunter with redoubled force. Why had he not searched there before? If it was a mistake, no harm could follow; if it was not a mistake--well, he should see.

Wondering at himself because of his oversight, he abandoned all attempt to regain sight of the couple and headed for the break in the canyon. He arrived only a brief while after Jack Dudley attempted and failed to follow up the gorge, and except for the mishap of the youth the two would have met within the following few minutes. It has already been shown how narrowly they missed doing so.

The familiarity of the cowman with the canyon averted the mistake made by his young friend. He ascended it with scarcely any hesitation, although in the dense gloom his vision was almost useless. It was because of that that he well-nigh stepped upon the crouching figure without suspecting it. Reaching the stone where Jack had been overwhelmed by failure, the cowman paused for a minute and peered round in the gloom. Not until he had glanced upward and studied the projecting crags over his head as outlined against the starlit sky was he absolutely sure of his location. That glance made everything clear.

The next rock upon which it was necessary to leap was within easy reach, and had Jack Dudley known its location he would have fallen into no trouble. It lay to the left, close to the side of the canyon, and really carried one no further up the gorge; but from its surface he readily bounded to one beyond, and continued his leap-frog performance until he had ascended another hundred yards.

He was now close to the point he had in mind. It was there that he had been picking his way when the wondering boys, looking down from the top, saw him. Hazletine would have explained his action to them but for a certain feeling of shame which was not unnatural.

There had been rumors for years among the cattlemen of Southwestern Wyoming of a cavern in the canyon which was studded with gold. Many searches had been made for it, but without success. Hank Hazletine was among those who engaged in the hunt, but neither he nor his friends succeeded in finding the place. The veteran was not quite ready to abandon hope, and when he found himself in the section once more, on the hunt in which he acted as guide for the boys, he determined to make a decisive exploration without letting any one know his secret.

It was on this expedition that he succeeded in finding the cavern, but his trained eye immediately told him the marvellous legend was a myth.

It was a romantic and picturesque spot, but there was not a grain of auriferous metal or ore in sight. Hoping that a second cavern was in the vicinity, he extended his search. When he emerged from the gorge, at the point where the break occurred, it was with the certainty that the whole thing was a fable. With a grim smile he dismissed the matter and resolved not to think of it again. He felt that he had acted foolishly, and his reluctance to tell his story to his young friends, therefore, was only natural.

But once more the cowman was on his way to the mysterious cavern, drawn by the hope, rather than the belief, that it was there he would find Fred Greenwood a prisoner and awaiting the completion of the bargain for his release by his abductors.

Determined to make no mistake, he halted under the projecting ledge and spent several minutes in peering around in the gloom. It looked as if he was right; but the darkness was too profound for him to make sure, and even the scrutiny of the ribbon of sky that showed above the narrow opening a thousand feet above his head failed to remove the last vestige of doubt.

Like the boys, Hank carried a rubber safe of matches. Producing this, he struck one of the tiny bits on the corrugated bottom of the little black box, and, shading the flame with his fingers from the moist wind caused by the das.h.i.+ng waters, he glanced at his immediate surroundings. He had strapped his Winchester to his back, and his arms were free.

A thrill of pleasure went through him, for the first scrutiny showed he was right. Directly over his head projected a thin ledge within ready reach. It was what might be termed the doorstep to the cavern. He had come to the exact spot for which he was searching.

Flinging the extinguished match into the waters at his side, he reached upward, and without difficulty drew himself upon the ledge. He was now in front of the cavern which he had visited by daylight, and whose interior was impressed so vividly on his memory that he knew every foot of it.

”Is the younker in there?” was the question he asked himself after regaining his feet. To test the matter, he called his name. The fierce torrent roared below and around him, but he was sure his words must have penetrated into the dismal recesses. He repeated the call several times without response.

”It may be the younker is asleep, or, if he hears me, he may take me fur Motoza; and yet that couldn't be, for our voices don't sound alike.”

Once more he produced his rubber safe and struck a match, holding the twinkling flame above his head as he slowly moved forward into the cavern. Before the light expired he had another, for he intended to make his search thorough.

The opening in the side of the canyon had a width of ten or twelve feet, was of the same height, and extended back for more than double the distance. Side, floor and roof were of irregular formation, and the craggy stones rough and wet. Had there been any gleaming stalact.i.tes or stalagmites in sight, the cause of the legend attaching to the place would have been understood, but there was nothing of that nature. The cavern was simply a rent in the side of the canyon wall, created by some convulsion of nature, and all that was visible was damp limestone.

By the time the visitor had burned three matches his examination of the place was completed and he had made the discovery that he was the only occupant. Fred Greenwood was not there, nor did the cavern show signs of having been visited by person or animal.

But hold! When Hank threw down the last expiring match, he caught a glimpse of something white on the flinty floor. He had not thought of looking for anything, and it was the accidental following of the match with his gaze that revealed the object. Instantly another match was sending out its feeble rays, and he stooped down and picked up that which had arrested his attention.

It was a piece of paper, apparently the blank leaf of a letter. There was no writing or mark on it to indicate its owners.h.i.+p, but had it been the visiting-card of Fred Greenwood, Hank Hazletine could not have been more positive that it belonged to the young man.

It was impossible that Motoza should carry writing-paper with him. The cowman never did so, consequently he could not have dropped it on his late visit. It was equally improbable that Bill Tozer had anything to do with it. He knew that both of the boys had paper and pencils with them, for he had seen them figuring over some problems they were discussing, and with a thrill of conviction he remembered that the paper they used was of precisely the same pattern as the piece he held in his hand.

”The younker has been here, but what the mischief has become of him?”

and the mystified cowman looked right and left, on the floor and at the roof, as if he suspected the youth was hiding in one of those places.

An explanation suggested itself. After taking the lad to the cavern, his captor from some cause had changed his mind and transferred him to another place of confinement.

No; there was another theory which would explain the mystery: it was that Motoza, yielding to his implacable enmity of the youth, had placed him beyond all reach of his friends. The spirit of revenge with an American Indian is tenfold stronger than cupidity. It was not improbable that the miscreant, having committed the unspeakable crime, was concealing it from Tozer, his ally in the dreadful business.