“Have you been able to notify Creedon?” asked Brooks.

“Yes.”

“What does he say?”

“He bade me arouse you.”

“I discovered the rascals as soon as I awoke.”

“All right; lay low and I will learn what Creedon advises.”

Desmond crawled back and said: 

“Brooks is awake and wants to know what we shall do.”

“There is only one thing to do:  we will lay low, and if the rascals do not discover us all right; if they do discover us it will be bad for them and all right with us again, that’s all.  And now you and Brooks just keep out of sight and let me run the show.”

Word was passed to Brooks, and Desmond with the tramp lay low.  As it proved there was not much of a show to run, as the Indians moved away after a little, but Creedon did not permit his friends to go forth.  He said: 

“You can never tell about these redskins; they might suspect we are around, and their going away may be a little trick; they are up to these tricks.”

Hours passed, and Creedon still kept his friends in hiding, and it was near evening when he stole forth, saying he would take an observation.  After a little he returned and said: 

“It’s all right; come out.”

Creedon said he had discovered evidence that the redskins had really gone away.

“Why couldn’t you have found that out sooner?”

The woodsman laughed and said: 

“They might have found me out then; as it was, according to the tales you and Brooks tell, I took a desperate chance.”

“Shall we get to work and have a meal?”

“Not much, young man, you will have to control your appetite for awhile.  Remember, I am captain of this squadron.  I’ll lead you to a place, however, where we can build a fire and camp and eat without fear.  I am posted around here; I know the safe places.”

The party started on the march, and Desmond felt quite irritated; he had gone nearly twenty-four hours without eating, and he said: 

“I am ready to even fight for a meal.”

Creedon laughed and said in reply: 

“You may have a stomach full of fighting yet before we find the mine.”

“I thought you had located it?”

“Yes, but it’s a week’s tramp from where we are at present, and we may have some lively times before we arrive at the place.”

It was nine o’clock at night when the party arrived at one of the most peculiar natural retreats Desmond had ever seen.  It was a cave, as we will call it, in the side wall of a cliff rising from a gulch even more wild and rugged than the one where the party had camped the previous night.  Some mighty convulsion of the mountain had separated the whole front of the cliff from the main rock, so that a space of at least twenty feet intervened, and between yawned a dark abyss that led down to where no man had yet penetrated.  Creedon led the way up along a ledge of ascent which lined the outer edge of the great mass of detached cliff.  Once at the top he descended on the inner side.  It was night, but he had taken advantage of a mask lantern which he carried with him, and which he said was the most useful article in his possession.  He added: