"How did you get in?" insisted the boy. "Come, think, because it'll help us to get you out."
"Get in—a long time ago—years and years ago—James Dean is very old. The whole hill is hollow and James Dean is buried alive."
Connie gave up trying to obtain information from the unfortunate man whose inconsistent remarks were of no help. "I'll see if these rocks are loose," he called, as he scraped the snow away from the edges of the hole and tapped at the rock with the back of his belt ax.
"It ain't loose!" came the voice. "It's solid rock—a hundred ton of it caved in my tunnel. The whole hill is quartz inside and I shot a face and the hill caved in."
A hurried examination confirmed the man's statement. Connie found, under the snow, evidences of the mouth of a tunnel, and then he saw that the whole face of the ledge had fallen forward, blocking the tunnel at the mouth. The small triangular opening used by the foxes, had originally been a notch in the old face of the ledge. The boy stared at the mass of rock in dismay. Fully twelve feet of solid rock separated the man from the outside world! Once more he placed his mouth to the hole. "Hello, James Dean!"
"Hello!"
"Isn't there any other opening to the cave?" he asked.
"Opening to the cave? Another opening? No—no—only my window, an' that's too high."
"Window," cried Connie. "Where is your window?"