Promising that he would do as requested, Little Rifle continued his progress.
CHAPTER XII.
IN THE MESHES OF THE LABYRINTH.
There was a pleasurable excitement in thus advancing into the unknown, and the lads experienced something of the emotion of the navigator, who penetrates for the first time into some hitherto undiscovered waste of waters; but it may be noted as a rather curious fact that neither of the lads apprehended the very peril to which they were thus exposing themselves until it was upon them. We refer to the certainty of their going astray in case they continued their explorations too far.
“If we only had a guide or a torch as the visitors do in the Mammoth Cave, this would be the biggest kind of fun,” said Harry, as they continued creeping stealthily along.
Little Rifle wondered what he meant by the Mammoth Cave, but his shy bashfulness prevented his asking any questions. He preferred to remain in ignorance until some more fitting occasion should arise.
“If we carried torches, they would be likely to be guiding points to the Indians,” said Little Rifle; “it will be safer to grope along without them, for some of those Blackfeet may be brave enough to try and learn something more about the Spirit of the Waterfall, whose eye flashed out upon them.”
“And who gobbled up one of their warriors,” added Harry. “By jingo! why didn’t I think of it?”
“Think of what?” asked Little Rifle, not knowing to what he referred.
“Why, that I have a match-safe in my pocket, pretty full of matches too. If they are dry enough to ignite, you haven’t any objection, have you?”
“No; go ahead,” replied the young trapper, who was desirous of getting a look at the interior. “If there’s any danger, they can be put out as soon as they are lit.”