The Shepherd of the Hills

by Harold Bell Wright

“I wish you had your medicine case, though, David,” added Mr. Howitt, as they followed the boy out into the night.

“Got one, Daniel; got one. Always have a pocket case; habit.”

Pete led the way down the road, and straight to the old cabin ruin below the corral. Though the stars were hidden behind clouds, it was a little light in the clearing; but, in the timber under the shadow of the bluff, it was very dark. The two men were soon bewildered and stood still. “Which way, Pete?” said the shepherd. There was no answer. “Where’s Pete? Tell Pete to come here,” said Mr. Howitt again. Still there was on reply. Their guide seemed to have been swallowed up in the blackness. They listened for a sound. “This is strange,” mused the shepherd.

A grunt of disgust came from the doctor, “Crazy, man, crazy. There’s three of us. Which way is the house? Blast it all, what would—” A spot of light gleamed under the bushes not fifty feet away.

“Come, Dad. Come on, Pete’s ready.”

They were standing close to the old cabin under the bluff. In a narrow space between the log wall of the house and the cliff, Pete stood with a lighted lantern. The farther end of the passage was completely hidden by a projection of the rock; the overhanging roof touched the ledge above; while the opening near the men was concealed by the heavy growth of ferns and vines and the thick branches of a low cedar. Even in daylight the place would have escaped anything but a most careful search.

Dropping to his knees and to one hand the shepherd pushed aside the screen of vines and branches with the other, and then on all fours crawled into the narrow passage. The Doctor followed. They found their guide crouching in a small opening in the wall of rock. Mr. Howitt uttered an exclamation, “The lost cave! Old man Dewey!”

The boy laughed, “Pete knows. Come, Dad. Come, other man. Ain’t nothin’ can get you here.” He scrambled ahead of them into the low tunnel. Some twenty feet from the entrance, the passage turned sharply to the left and opened suddenly into a hallway along which the shepherd could easily walk erect. Pete went briskly forward as one on very familiar ground, his lantern lighting up the way clearly for his two companions.

For some distance their course dipped downward at a gentle angle, while the ceilings and sides dripped with moisture. Soon they heard the sound of running water, and entering a wider room saw sparkling in the lantern’s light a stream that came from under the rocky wall, crossed their path, and disappeared under the other wall of the chamber. “Lost Creek!” ejaculated the shepherd, as he picked his way over the stream on the big stones. And the boy answered, “Pete knows. Pete knows.”

From the bank of the creek the path climbed strongly upward, the footing grew firmer, and the walls and ceiling drier; as they went on, the passage, too, grew wider and higher, until they found themselves in a large underground hallway that echoed loudly as they walked. Overhead, pure white stalactites and frost-like formations glittered in the light, and the walls were broken by dark nooks and shelf-like ledges with here and there openings leading who could tell where?