“But, if you are seen taking away food, won’t the others suspect something?” asked Tom.

“I do pretty much as I please,” said Bill.  “I go and come when I like.  All I’m supposed to do is to watch my two sides of the mountain, play the ghost, and give warning when any one is coming.  Sometimes I leave black and white messages, like the one I put on your tent.  Those fellows fix ’em up for me.  I’ve told ’em about you, though I didn’t know who you were, and they think you have gone, for the two men on guard at the rear entrance so reported.  Sometimes I stay out on the mountain for a couple of days at a time, when the weather’s good, and don’t go back to the cave.  Those times I take food with me, and so if they see me making off with some supplies they’ll think I’m going to camp out.”

“It doesn’t look as though we’d ever get into a cave near the top of the mountain, going this way,” said Tom, as they marched along.  “We’re going down, instead of up.”

“That’s the secret of this trail,” explained Bill.  “We go down in a sort of valley, and then go up a pretty stiff place, and then we’re on a direct trail to the entrance I told you about.  It’s a steep road to climb, but I guess we can manage it.”

And a hard climb the adventurers did find it.  The road was almost as bad as the one along the edge of the chasm, but they managed to negotiate it, and finally found themselves on a fairly good trail.

“We’ll soon be there,” Bill assured them.  “After you get in the little cave, where I’m going to hide you, I’ll have to leave you for a spell, until I get my ghost rigging fixed up again.  But I’ll see that you have plenty of food and drink.”

A little later their guide came to a sudden halt, and peered around anxiously.

“What’s the matter?” asked Tom.

“I was just looking to see if any of the men were about,” he answered.  “But I guess not—­it looks all right.  The entrance is right here.”

They were on a side of the mountain, near the summit.  Below stretched a magnificent scene.  A great valley lay at their feet, and they could look off to many distant peaks.  The main trail to Leadville, and the one to the settlement of Indian Ridge, was in sight.

Suddenly Tom, who had been using a small but powerful telescope, uttered an exclamation, and focussed the instrument on a speck that seemed moving along on the trail below.

“A man—­coming up the mountain,” cried Tom.  “And—­it can’t be—­yet it is—­it’s Farley Munson—­the stowaway!” he cried.  “He’s coming here!”

“Let me look!” begged Mr. Jenks, taking the glass from Tom.  An instant later the diamond man exclaimed:  “Yes, it’s Munson!”

“Then in here with you—­quick!” cried Renshaw.  “He can’t see us yet, and we’ll be out of sight in another minute.”

The former spirit pulled aside some thick bushes, and pointed to a hole which was disclosed.