"That's the idea!" Frank said. "Of course the shooting of last night would draw out the natives. There'll be dozens around the caves to-day."
The boys walked on to the canyon, taking snap-shots of everything they saw. The slope, the canyon, the valley to the west, the green valley to the south, the shallow cave from which the entrance to the workroom gave, all were transferred to films to await development. When at last they entered the shallow cave they paused.
"There may be some of them in here yet," Frank suggested.
"Not to-day!" Ned replied. "There are too many strangers about!"
They entered cautiously. There was now no fire on the stone hearth, and the atmosphere of the place was damp and chill, as well as dark. Here and there a break in the rocky roof above—the ceiling of the apartment was very near to the surface of the outcropping ridge—let in a shaft of light, but for the most part the apartment was in heavy shadows.
Ned took out his electric light and turned it enquiringly about the room. Counterfeit money still lay scattered over the floor. The melting pot and the dies were on the cold iron shelf where they had been left, and even a coat hung against the wall.
"They got out in a hurry," Jimmie declared.
"And they are not likely to come back in a hurry!" Ned added.
Frank paced the apartment off, set his camera tripod, and got out his powder.
"You boys stand over on the other side," he requested, as he moved back to his tripod, "and when I give the word you, Jimmie, touch off this flash."