"Dunno ez I kin," admitted the old man. "It duz look like something a' ther kind took her out o' thar jest at ther right time."
A complete examination showed that the whole roof of the cave had apparently fallen in, and the passage was blocked with tons upon tons of earth and sand.
"This yar's ther end o' Sand Cave," said Old Rocks.
They kept the child with them and waited behind the rocks for the attack of the Blackfeet, but no attack came. Thus the long night passed, and another day came round.
Then it was found that the Indians had departed.
"They didn't dar' stay hayer longer," said Old Rocks. "Ther whelps wuz afeared o' ther soldiers. I'd like ter run onter ther soldiers an' set 'em arter Half Hand an' ther gang."
Led by the guide, they left the spot. Frank carried Fay in his arms.
Old Rocks first proceeded to the spot where he had hidden his rifle, and, with that again in his possession, he expressed himself as feeling ready to "chaw up ther hull Blackfeet tribe."
They found some game for breakfast and dinner, and before nightfall they reached the camp on the shore of the lake, where Preston March and Foster Fairfax had met.
A large party of tourists had gathered there, and the appearance of the man and boy, the latter bearing Fay in his arms, created the greatest excitement. Several persons rushed into the tent and drew forth a man and woman, the latter white and grief-stricken, and pointed out the child, who was sitting on Frank's shoulder and waving her hand, as she laughingly called: