It was deserted; but to his astonishment he saw, from the way it was fitted up, that whoever lived in it were not Indians.  Blankets lay on the floor, and the smoke was coming from a fire which had been used for cooking and was dying out.  The utensils were not such as Indians use, being made of agate ware.  Then, too, he noticed some old coats and other garments hanging on nails that had been driven into the wall.

As his eyes grew more accustomed to the light, he saw a suitcase in one corner.  There were initials on it.  Dick made them out to be W. M.

‘"W.  M.’?  Who can that be?” he mused.  “Whoever lives here is a white man, that is plain.  But why is he a hermit?  Anyhow, I’d better be getting out of this before he comes back.  I’ve really got no business in here at all.”

At this juncture he heard voices coming from the river.  They were punctuated by the dip of oars.  As he heard the speakers outside, Dick’s mind suddenly realized who “W.  M.” was.

“What a chump I was not to think of it before!” he exclaimed.  “It’s William Masterson, of course, and that’s his voice outside.  Gee whillakers, they must have camped here on purpose to spy on us.”

Just then it occurred to Dick that he was, as a matter of fact, spying on Masterson.  He went to the cave door.  Below was a boat containing Masterson and his two friends.  They had apparently been to town for supplies, for the boat was full of canned goods and provisions.

Just as Dick got to the door Masterson spied the home-made boat lying on the bank at the foot of the cliff.

“Say, fellows,” he exclaimed, “somebody’s been paying us a call.”

“Some thieving Indian, judging from the looks of that boat,” said Sam Higgins.

“Well, we’re not receiving callers of any kind right now,” sputtered Eph angrily.

Dick crouched back into the doorway of the cave.  He was trying to think what to do.  It was an awkward situation.  He didn’t want to be caught in what looked, on the face of it, like an act of spying, and yet he didn’t wish Masterson and his cronies to think him a coward.

“Say, fellows,” spoke up Higgins suddenly, “you don’t think it could be one of those kids from the camp below, do you?  They may have seen us snooping around there at night and got wise to where we are hiding.”

“It had better not be one of them,” said Masterson in a loud, threatening voice.  “If I catch him, I’ll break every bone in his body.”

“I guess I’ll have a fight on my hands,” muttered Dick.  “Well, serves me right for butting in,” he added philosophically.

“Let’s go up and see who it is?” said Eph.  “He must be in the cave.”

“You go first,” said Sam Higgins, who was not over-brave, “it might be a bad man or an Indian.”

“Pshaw, I’m not afraid!” said Masterson.  “Give me your pistol, Sam, if you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared, but there’s no use running into trouble,” said Sam.  “Besides I’m kind of lame.  I think I—­er—­wrenched my ankle getting out of the boat.”