Before leading the way into the cave, Captain Hager told the group something of its history. The cavern, he related, was known to have been in existence in early Indian days—the exact date of its origin never would be established.
“Now there are all types of caves,” he went on, warming to his subject. “Tunnel caves, river system caves, fissure caves—no two ever are the same, and that’s what makes ’em so interesting to explorers. This one starts with a sort of sinkhole entrance. It narrows down for a distance and then opens up into a chamber where you’ll see the White Witch. That’s as far as most folks ever go.”
“It won’t take us too long to see the formation?” Miss Ward asked, looking anxiously at her wrist watch. “We haven’t much time.”
“Ten minutes, ma’am, to walk to the chamber. The climb back will take longer. I’m not as spry as I was in the old days.”
“We can spare an hour,” Miss Ward decided.
Captain Hager instructed the girls to follow him, single-file. Miss Ward brought up the rear of the procession to make certain that none of her charges wandered out of line.
Cautiously, and with awe, the Scouts moved into the entrance chamber of the cave. A considerable current of air moved in the cavern, nearly lifting Kathleen’s beret from her head.
The room in which the girls found themselves, though dark, was neither damp nor musty. By the light of Captain Hager’s lantern, they distinguished smoke-blackened limestone walls, and on the floor were the dead ashes of a small fire.
“Someone has been in here lately,” the guide remarked. “Not Bart, because he wouldn’t bother with a fire. He does most of his exploring in a bathing suit.”
“A bathing suit!” gasped Miss Ward, truly astonished. “I should think he’d freeze to death.”