FENN IS CAPTURED
For several seconds after he had observed the man’s head disappear down the hole in the ledge, Fenn waited. He wanted to see if the fellow had gone for reinforcements, or had retreated. After a minute or two Fenn decided that the man was as much frightened as he himself was.
“I’ll take a look down that hole,” he decided. “I’m not in very good shape for visiting company,” he went on, with a look at his clay-covered clothes, “but I don’t believe those chaps are very particular. I wonder what I’m up against? This is a queer country, with holes in the ground almost at every turn, leading to no one knows where.”
He advanced toward the shaft, down which the man had vanished, and, as he reached the edge, he saw that it contained a ladder.
The ladder was made of tree trunks, with the branches cut off about a foot from where they joined on, leaving projections sticking up at a slight angle, and making a good hold for the hands and feet.
“Well, I s’pose I’m foolish to do this all alone, and that I had better go back to camp and get the boys,” murmured Fenn, as he prepared to descend. “But, if I do, the smugglers may escape, and I’ll lose the reward. There must be an opening at the bottom of this shaft that leads right out on the lake shore. When the boats land the smuggled-in Chinamen, they are probably taken up this shaft, then through the one I slid down, and so into the woods, and from there they are spirited wherever they want to go.”
He looked into the shaft, and listened intently, but could hear no sound. He was surprised to see that the opening, leading down to he could only guess where, was dimly lighted, seemingly in a natural manner. But his wonder at this ceased when, having gone down a little way, he noticed that the walls of the shaft were pierced, in the direction of the lake, with small openings, through which light came.
The shaft, he then saw, was either a natural one, or had been bored, straight down the cliff, and at no great distance from the perpendicular face of it. The sides seemed to be of soft rock, or hard clay, and the tree-trunk ladders were fastened up against the walls by long wooden stakes, driven in deeply. There were several tree trunks, one after another, and from the smoothness of the jutting prongs it was evident that they were often used.
Down Fenn climbed, stopping every now and then to peer through the ventilating and light holes. He caught glimpses of the great lake, that lay at the foot of the cliff, toward the bottom of which he was descending in this strange manner.
“Queer I don’t hear or see anything more of those men I was chasing,” mused the boy as he paused a moment opposite one of the air holes to get his breath. “I wonder what became of the two Chinese and the white chap? Then there’s that man who stuck his head up out of this hole. He looked like a miner, for his hat was all covered with dirt. That reminds me, where’s my hat?”