The guard was filling his smoker again, and Cayuse gained many feet.
Now another match flared up, and in the intermittent flashes, as the guard sucked the blaze into his bowl, Cayuse plainly saw the features of the man.
It was Bloody Ike.
With catlike movements the Indian boy felt his way down the slope. Here and there the rotting brattice crumbled at his touch, and pieces fell with a soft thud, but he was now far from the guard at the mouth.
He was tempted to strike a match, but denied himself the comfort of a glance at his surroundings, fearing another guard might be posted where there was a divergence of slopes or at the spot where Pa-e-has-ka and Hickok were held.
After a time a faint light glimmered ahead, and loomed larger as he advanced. It was a lantern hung overhead, which shed feeble rays on its surroundings.
Along the walls were tiered many bales in various forms and sizes. It was the storehouse of the gang. Leaning against the bales in the full glare of the lantern sat a man on a box. His cooling pipe had fallen on his breast, the under jaw had dropped, and the inner guard of the mine stronghold was breathing stertorously.
Cayuse looked for other men of Price’s gang, but none were within reach of the lantern’s rays.
But the keen eyes of the Piute fell on something that interested him far more. His heart jumped with joy, for there, only a few feet from the sleeping guard, lay two men, both seemingly asleep.
They were Pa-e-has-ka and the Laramie man.