In rapid succession, he showed them some ashes glowing in a huge open fireplace, in front of which was an ample hearthstone. There was also a rude table in one corner, on which were the remains of what had been a rude meal.
“But where has the man gone who was in here?” demanded Frank.
“Maybe out by the back door,” suggested Harry.
“There isn’t one,” rejoined Billy, “the door in front is the only way out.”
“How about the windows?”
“The two in front are the only ones.”
“Well, that’s queer.”
“It certainly is.”
“See if there are any trap doors in the floor,” suggested Bart. “These old miners are queer old chaps sometimes.”
But a close search of the floor did not reveal any trace of a trap door. Much puzzled by the mystery, the boys retired to bed that night prepared for any sudden alarm. A lamp was left burning, and their guns lay ready to hand. But nothing occurred to mar the monotonous drumming of the rain on the roof, and one by one they dropped off to sleep.