"Younker," replied the sympathetic guide, "I ain't the one to trifle with your feelings, fur you don't feel much worse than me, but I own up that I don't know anything more 'bout this bus'ness than you. I mean by that," he hastened to explain, "that I can't figger out in my mind what that varmint has done till I pick up more knowledge than you've been able to give me, and I can't do that afore to-morrow morning."

This sounded reasonable, but it was trying beyond imagination, for it indicated that the long night must be spent in idleness, without the raising of a finger to help the one who perhaps was in the most imminent need of such assistance. There was no help, however, for it, and Jack accepted the decision of his friend without a murmur.

The two sat at the mouth of the cavern, talking in low tones, until the night was well advanced, when Hank said, with a voice that sounded wonderfully low and tender for him:

"Now go in and lay down, younker, fur there'll be plenty of work fur you to do to-morrer, and there's no saying when you'll git the chance to sleep agin."

"Call me when it is my turn to go on guard."

"All right; and don't show yourself till I do call you."

Jack walked into the cavern, first pausing to fling some wood on the fire. Mingled with his feeling of despair was a dread of being alone in the gloom. He did not believe he would sleep a wink through the night, for never were his emotions wrought to a more keenly torturing point. It was almost impossible to remain still, but he forced himself to lie down, with his heavy blanket gathered around him.

It would be distressing to dwell upon the anguish and grief of the youth, as he lay wide awake, his brain alert and his blood at fever-heat. At times it all seemed so like a dream that he turned his head to make sure Fred Greenwood, his loved chum and comrade, was not lying at his side. But no, it was all a dreadful reality, and he groaned in spirit.

As the minutes passed he appeared to grow more wakeful, until he was in as full possession of his faculties as when fleeing from the grizzly bear. And it was while lying thus, wondering what the hour could be, that he became aware that Hank Hazletine was standing at the mouth of the cavern, on the other side of the smouldering fire. The light was reflected so clearly from his bearded face that it was seen distinctly, while the position of Jack, muffled in his blanket, threw his own countenance in shadow, which prevented the guide seeing it clearly.

Something prompted Jack to lie still and feign sleep, while he kept his gaze on the man, who was looking fixedly at him. Suddenly Hank pronounced his name in a low voice, repeating the call in a louder tone. He wished to learn whether his young friend was unconscious, and, since Jack made no reply, must have concluded he was sleeping.