Other skeletons were found by Jim White, though none had the spectacular thrill for him engendered by that first sight of a frame-work of a man.
With all their excitement to feed their interest, Jim and his youthful companion might have stayed longer than three days, but for an untoward event which Jim would describe:
“I had the oil for our torches. It was in a gallon can ... the can in a gunny-sack slung over my shoulder. The can started leaking and my clothes were soaking up kerosene.... Before long my back was sore and burning, so I was planning to stop as soon as we got off the ledge we were crawling on at the time. Wanted to fix my back, the best I could in there. But the Kid, crawling along behind me, brought his torch too near my back. The next instant, I was hanging on a narrow shelf of rock, my clothes blazing, and a gallon can of oil on my back!”
If he hung there on the ledge, he would burn to death. If he let go, he’d be dashed to pieces on the rocks below. If he threw the can away, they’d be left without oil for the torches on the trip from the cavern—if he lived long enough to start that journey!
There was only one thing to do—and Jim White did it. He scooted across that ledge like a cat after a bird. At the first level spot, he threw the oil-can down and slapped his big cowboy sombrero over it. The Kid followed from the ledge, and while Jim smothered the flames from the oil-can with his hat and made fervent prayers that the can would not explode, the Kid skinned out of his own coat, pressing it around Jim’s shoulders! Quick thinking bolstered intuition, and the fire was out very quickly, but not before the heat had gone through Jim’s leather vest, blistering very badly. The hair was burned from the back of his head. Arms and hands were painfully burned.
Urgent need for treatment and bandages stopped the two-man exploration of the cavern, leaving much to be learned—much to be imagined—much to be told after three wonderfilled days of wandering.
The Hall of Giants Section of the Big Room—Approximately 2,000 feet long and about 1,100 feet wide
But Jim White might as well have saved his breath. Convincing the gang at the ranch and camp was a hopeless task, and the Kid’s command of English was so inadequate that he could contribute little except “Si, si!” and nods of enthusiasm. That wasn’t enough. The story fell on unresponsive ears.
On the streets of Carlsbad, then called “Eddy”, just a few days after his fiery experience, Jim White met a friend who had once visited Mammoth Cave in Kentucky. The friend countered Jim’s story with the belief that there just couldn’t be a bigger cave than Mammoth! ... so before long, two heads bent over encyclopedias and reference books with pictures and information about caves. The more Jim White learned—the more pictures he saw—the more positive he became that the cave he had explored was larger and more beautiful than any cavern then on record! At the turn of the century, Jim White had talked “bats” and “cave” until word went ’round that both the bats and the cave were in Jim’s head!