Here the sight was prettier.
The floor, walls and ceiling were a delicate shade of pink, and the icicles formed many fantastic shapes that sparkled in the firelight.
Pausing, the detectives now saw that the place was about fifty feet in diameter, with a vaulted roof, through a hole in which the smoke from a big log fire was pouring upward.
Upon the floor there were some skins of animals, benches, boxes, dishes and other articles used for cooking and comfort.
Two men were lying upon the ground smoking pipes before the big fire, and as the lights glowed upon their faces, the detectives observed that they were Roland Mason and Sim Johnson.
Both were conversing.
"Sim," the white man was saying, "are you quite sure the detectives have got Nick locked up in jail?"
"Dat's whut I heered dis mornin' in de town, Massa Ronald," replied the negro, in serious tones.
"He may give us away, Sim."
"If he do, Ise gwine ter gib it to him."