The lariat was quickly adjusted around the edge of a smooth rock, and with his foot in a noose and the lantern in hand, the scout was lowered into the depths of the opening.
Down and down he went, the light finding nothing but bare, rocky wall to fall upon. Presently the lowering process ceased.
"We have reached the end of the lariat," called out Dick.
Hardly had he spoken when a fearful thing happened. There was a snap and a whirr, and Dick and Pumpkin went flat on their backs, while ten feet of the lariat whirled loosely over their heads.
The improvised rope had broken.
"Gone!" gasped Dick. "Merciful heavens!"
He scrambled up and looked over the edge of the opening. The lantern had been dashed into a thousand pieces, and all was dark below.
"Pawnee Brown!" he cried, and Pumpkin joined in with a cry which was fairly a shriek.
The opening remained as silent as a tomb. Again and again both called out. Then Dick turned to his companion.
"This is awful, Pumpkin. Something must be done. I shall mount his mare and ride back to camp and get help. For all I know to the contrary both my father and Pawnee Brown are lying dead below."