"It's the Indian!" he whispered, a sudden terror seizing him.
"Worse than that!" said Apple, as he saw the figure that minute outlined against the entrance. "Worse than that!" he repeated with a severity unusual in his gentle speech. "It's Matt Burton!"
CHAPTER XIX
BURIED IN THE CAVE
The two boys looked suspiciously at Matt as he advanced, but neither words of cheer nor resentment came to their Lips. A few days ago Glen's greeting would have been quick and stinging. His silence spoke well for the first lessons of self-control. Apple felt so keenly Matt's injustice to Glen that the cordiality which was his natural offering to good and bad alike was completely choked.
But another splash caused all three to turn their looks again to the entrance and in a moment another head bobbed in sight. It was Chick-chick this time.
"'Lo, fellers!" he called out cheerfully. "D'ye know it's rainin' in solid sheets outside. Jest had to get in out of it. Old Matt, he's follerin' you. I's follerin' Matt. He dived. I dived. 'Tain't much drier in here than outside but anyway ye don't need umbrellas. Mighty little bit of openin' ye came through there. Skinned me elbow, I did."
"Come up here, Chick-chick," invited Apple. "We can use you. It's dry up here. And I don't know why you came, Matt, but since you're here you might as well help, too."