“Gimme yer torch an’ I’ll tell yer,” replied Angell.
Buffalo Bill complied with his comrade’s request, and the torch was lowered so that the wall of the chasm could be plainly seen.
A winding, dangerous descent was observed. At the bottom was a pool of water, but the trail skirted it and passed into a small, oval chamber. Angell looked for some time at the trail, and then said: “We kin make it, but we got ter be blamed keerful.”
As he spoke he started to go down. Buffalo Bill waited until Angell was halfway to the pool, and then followed carefully. In his hand was the tomahawk he had used while working his way out of the Navahos’ cave. An idea came to him before he had taken half a dozen steps. There would be a pursuit when Raven Feather’s reënforcements arrived from the village. Here was opportunity to stop the pursuit.
The trail had been made by human hands, footholds having been cut in the rock.
With his tomahawk the king of scouts destroyed these safeguards as he passed them, and when he stood by Bart Angell’s side at the foot of the descent, the wall was without a trail.
“We can go on with more confidence now,” he said.
Angell nodded, and they went through the chamber, and after a long journey, in which many curious sights were seen, they came out of the ground to find that they were on the shore of a branch of the river.
The time was about midnight. The scouts were both hungry and tired. They risked a small fire to make coffee, a supply of which Buffalo Bill generally carried with him, and, after partaking of the beverage and the beef and hardtack that went with it, they were ready for sleep.
If either had known just where he was there would have been no sleep for their eyes that night. But they had become confused as to direction on account of the many turns they had made while in the great cave. To attempt to find their bearings while the dark night lasted might have taken them miles in a wrong direction.