“I know it! I nearly fell into it!” exclaimed Ruth ruefully. “We found the passage and went along all right till we got that far. We couldn’t see a thing. I was ahead. Blanche pulled me back just as I was going over. How deep is it, Blue Wolf?”
“Twelve feet, mebbe. Little room one side. You walk there all right, you careful. Me show how walk.”
With this gracious offer, the guide marshalled his charges behind him, and sweeping his torch from side to side, stepped into the passage, the girls following. This time they went rapidly, halting only at the “bad hole,” which was indeed a veritable pit. Whether it was due to natural causes, or purposely dug by the Indians to foil pursuit, Blue Wolf did not know. Afterward questioned by Ruth, he replied that, so far as he knew, it had always been there. The light of the torch revealed, however, a narrow foothold of earth on one side, not more than a foot in width, and on this they walked safely across to feel the solid floor of the passage again under their feet.
Soon afterward they emerged from it to feel the soft night wind blow upon their faces and hear the blessed rustle of the leaves overhead. To Ruth, it was the supreme moment of her life. As long as she lived, she never forgot the sensation of reverent exultation that swept over her as she paused for an instant to breathe deeply of the fragrant air, her eyes lifted to where, far, far above, she glimpsed the faint twinkle of the stars.
A gentle touching of her arm brought her to earth once more. “Come now hurry,” urged the guide. “’Bout mile to lake. I go first. Torch he light. You careful, no fall.”
“After what we’ve been through, a few tumbles won’t matter,” Blanche commented with an alert cheerfulness that brought the guide’s black eyes to bear on her. Thus far, he had accorded her small attention. He now became aware of a curious change in the indolent, selfish girl of whom he had so deeply disapproved. He stared harder than ever when she faltered diffidently: “We can’t ever hope to repay you for what you’ve done for us, Blue Wolf.”
The sincerity of the little speech struck a responsive chord. Very gravely the guide held out his hand to Blanche. “Good words. Me like. Remember long time. Now you my friend like Missy Ruth and Missy Drexal.”
Ruth looked smilingly on, happy at the way things were moving. Out of their sorry adventure had come the awakening of Blanche’s “better self” for which she had so earnestly hoped. It was well worth having endured much.
Guided by the flickering light of Blue Wolf’s torch, the journey to the lake shore was accomplished without event. Just as they emerged from the woods, a wild, jubilant shout from shore thrilled the hearts of the returned wanderers. The flare of the guide’s torch had shown the watchers three figures instead of only one. Half way between the woods and the lake’s edge, a reunion took place the memory of which lingered in the minds of all concerned long after that joyful meeting.
When the first excitement had somewhat subsided, Ruth and Blanche were affectionately conducted to the camp fire by a thankful bodyguard. Ever practical, Miss Drexal went to work immediately to bandage Ruth’s wrist, while thoughtful Marian soon had a fresh pot of steaming coffee ready. With such comestibles as had been saved against their return, Blue Wolf and the two heroines of the cave made a satisfactory repast. As it was then after three o’clock, it was decided to wait for daybreak before starting for Wohelo Wigwam. Absorbed as were all in listening to Ruth’s story of that terrible adventure in the dark, the remaining hours until daylight flew by on wings.