“Come on,” said Angell, at last. “We will get outer here, all right, though it’s shore goin’ ter take a little time.”
The speaker was correct in his opinion. More than three hours elapsed before they emerged from the new section of the cave.
Beyond the bowlders there was a sharp descent. The scouts went down, making many turns, and at last stood in a chamber four times as large as the one that had recently held them as prisoners.
As they were exploring the place, Bart Angell, in advance of Buffalo Bill, who held the torch, gave utterance to a cry of amazement.
“Ther sufferin’ saltpeter,” he exclaimed, “ef it ain’t Manuel. Ther aire the chaps I guv him when he got over his sick spell, an’ ’lowed he’d meander outer ther Territory.”
The king of scouts looked, and saw the body of a man—that is, he saw a portion of the body. The head and one shoulder was out of sight. The inference was plain: The man had tried to crawl through a hole in the wall, had become wedged in, and had died there.
The torch was lowered so that a closer inspection of the body might be made. The clothing had not rotted, but from appearances Buffalo Bill knew that it inclosed a skeleton.
“What do you make of it?” inquired the king of scouts.
“Some one war chasin’ him, an’ he made fer ther hole ter hide. It war too small, an’ he got stuck an’ stayed thar.”
“I wonder what is down in that hole, Bart?”