“Have ye observed nothing?” asked Mickey, in an undertone.

“Nothing at all.”

“It’s too dark I know, to see, but mebbe yees have heerd something to tell ye that the spalpeens are up there still.”

“You may be sure I listened all I know how, but everything has kept as still as the grave.  I haven’t heard the fall of a pebble even.  What do you think the Indians mean to do?”

“Well it’s hard to tell.  It fooks as though they didn’t think we fell in, but had come down on purpose, and had some way of getting out as easy, and they’re on the look out for us.”

“Maybe, Mickey, there’s some other way of coming in, that we haven’t been able to find.”

“I hoped so a while ago, but I’ve guv it up.  If them spalpeens knowed of any other way, what do they mean by fooling around that place up there, where they’re likely to get shot if they show themselves, and they’re likely to lose the best blankets they’ve got?”

Fred did not feel competent to answer this question, and so he was forced to believe that Mickey was right in his conclusion that there was no other way of entering the cave than by the skylight above.

“Which the same thing being the case, I propose that we thry and see how the new blanket answers for a bed.  Begorrah! but its fine, as me mither used to say when she run her hands over the head of me dad, and felt the lumps made by the shillelah.”

And, having spread the blanket out in the dark-ness, he rubbed his hands over its velvety surface, admiring its wonderful texture.  The texture is such that water can be carried in these Apache blankets with as much certainty as in a metal vessel.  But Fred protested against both lying down to sleep at the same time.  He thought it likely that the Apaches meant to visit the cave during the night; but his friend laughed his fears to scorn, assuring him that there could be no danger at all.  In view of the reception tendered the blanket, the Apaches would take it for granted that the parties beneath were too vigilant to permit anyone to steal a march upon them.

Mickey at once attested his sincerity by stretching out upon the inviting couch, and Fred concluded at last to join him.  It was not long before the Irishman was sound asleep, but the lad lay awake a long time, looking reflectively up at the spot where he knew the opening to be,—­the opening which had been the means of letting himself and comrade down into that dismal retreat of solitude,—­and wondering what their enemies were doing.

“They must know that I am here.  Lone Wolf will punish them if they don’t keep me, so I am sure they will do all they can to catch me again.  I wish I was certain that there was no way of getting in but through that up there, and then I could sleep too, but I feel too scared to do it now.”

This anxiety kept him awake a long time after Mickey became unconscious; but, as hour after hour passed and the stillness remained unbroken, his fears were gradually dissipated and a feeling of drowsiness began stealing over him.