Hardly had they begun to explore the crevices and angles of the rocks, before a cry from Connie brought the old scout to his side. The boy was peering into a dark, triangular opening where a great mass of rock, in some mighty convulsion of nature, had been toppled against a shoulder of the ridge.
Seconds passed as the two stared into the black opening. Then, lying flat, Ick Far placed his ear to the rock and Connie waited in breathless suspense until the old scout scrambled to his knees. "Som't'ing een dere," he said.
What do you think it is?" asked Connie.
The man shrugged: "Mebbe-so, 'oman, mebbe bear, loup cervier, wolf, man wid' de kultus gol'—an' mebbe-so tamahnawus.
The inky cavern looked uninviting enough as the boy peered into its depths, and for several moments he hesitated. Then, suddenly, with the same outthrusting of the jaw with which he had ventured beyond the firelight at the deserted camp of the Indians, he dropped to his hands and knees. Feeling a tug at his sleeve, he turned to look into the face of Ick Far.
"Better you don' go een dere. Mebbe-so,
