“Hold on, Bill! The critters can’t feed in there,” Danforth objected, bringing his own animal to a stop.
“All right. We’ll have to cut brush for ’em to pick over. There’s no safe feeding ground outside.”
“But, hang it! how do we know who or what may be in that hole?”
“Chief says there are no Injuns here, that’s sure!” retorted the scout, laughing.
“But it may be a grizzly’s lair, or a cougar’s.”
“Nope. Old Chief would have made remarks about it. Come on, lieutenant.”
“Oh, I’m not afraid, if that’s what you mean!” grunted Dick Danforth, and with a nod to his file-leader, he followed the scout into the maw of the darksome cave.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE NIGHT PROWLERS.
The frontiersmen—those who were Buffalo Bill’s associates—mapped the mountains and plains of the West long before Uncle Sam’s exploration parties ever penetrated the wilderness. Cody had never been to this hole in the mountainside before, yet he knew all about it. Hunters and trappers—and some early gold-seekers—had told him of its existence. It had been considered “bad medicine” by the Indians who inhabited this section of the country before the Sioux had flowed over into the land, and Oak Heart’s people themselves kept away from it. The scout was pretty sure that they had a sufficiently strong fortress here to withstand any ordinary attack.