"Make yourself at home, then," said the old mountaineer, pleasantly; "there's a pipe for you, too, and the night is only begun. We so seldom have company, eh, Bill? that a couple of hours for a storyteller will be a real treat. Stranger, we listen, if the grub has put you in pretty good shape again."
"One moment," demurred the other; "you talk of the need to guard this place from spies. Now, I can't compliment you on your vigilance and prudence when you squat here in the broad firelight with the cavern gaping open yonder—an Indian boy could riddle us with arrows."
Ridge laughed.
"If you don't mind getting up and coming to the opening, you shall see that—but not so near the brink—the crust is shaky. See, how readily I detach a chunk. Don't lean forward. Look forth—it is a clear night."
It was serene and lovely. The stars shone unveiled, and that was all in the deep indigo black, where, beneath, the deep-rooted pines could be heard slowly swaying, not seen, like a field of grain in a zephyr.
"I see nothing."
"No trees, no rocks?"
"No. Nothing but stars."
"You would see nothing but stars if you were to step after that stone. Hark!"
Jim trundled the rocky lump out of the cave; but not the faintest sound or echo betokened that it touched bottom or anywhere.