The captain had stopped abruptly at the rock on which Jack had dried out his dripping garments. What he had seen had been the ashes of the fire the lad had kindled.
“Some one has lit a fire here,” cried Ralph as he, too, saw the embers.
“Yes, and not long ago, either.”
Captain Atkinson bent over and picked up a handful of the blackened embers, examining them carefully.
“This fire is not over forty–eight hours old,” he exclaimed in a voice that fairly shook with suppressed excitement.
“And that means that Jack has————”
“In some miraculous way been swept over those falls and survived. Let us press on at once. Before dark we may have him with us again.”
At these words new life seemed to course through the veins of the two exhausted young Rangers. They plucked up energy and courage from the captain’s manner.
“Forward,” cried their leader, plunging into the narrow passage which we have seen Jack traverse.
Entering the valley, they had hardly gotten over the first shock of their surprise at its extent and formation when the keen eyes of Captain Atkinson discovered the figure of the Mexican.