"Pray do me the kindness to lose no time in clearing out that passageway," responded Barringford, and under his directions the soldiers set to work with picks and spades and various other entrenching tools to remove the fallen rocks and dirt.
It was a hard task, but inside of three hours the way was cleared and
Barringford crawled through, followed by White Buffalo.
"Gone!" murmured the old frontiersman, with a sigh of relief. "I am mighty glad of it."
"White Buffalo glad too," returned the Indian chief simply. "Let us look for his trail."
Plenty of torches were at hand and also a lantern, making the rocky chamber almost as bright as day. With ease the Indian chief traced Dave's footsteps to the split in the rocks, and then hauled himself out through the opening by the tree roots, followed by Barringford.
"This is the way he got out," said the old frontiersman. "But why didn't he return to the waterfall?"
"Fight here," was the red man's answer, pointing to the footprints in the soil. "Two Indians come up behind Dave. Come!"
They left the vicinity, and soon both reached the conclusion that the young pioneer had been carried away a prisoner.
"But where did they take him to?" questioned Barringford.
"We must follow the trail," was all White Buffalo could answer.