The river end of the tunnel opened on the side of the high, rocky bank, and was so bushed about that it could not be seen readily.
It seemed to the scout now that John Latimer must be aware of the existence of that tunnel.
Latimer had built the house, and had lived in it since its erection. Obviously, he could not have been unaware of the tunnel and the trapdoor; yet Latimer had not spoken of them when the scout was making his futile search for Nomad, nor had he hinted of their existence since. More and more it was apparent that Latimer was not “playing fair;” but even yet there was so much of mystery about the whole matter that Buffalo Bill was too bewildered to reach any clear conclusion.
The Indians had gone, and daybreak was at hand by the time Buffalo Bill got out of the tunnel and out of the river gorge, and had made his way back to the vicinity of the house and stables.
The house was silent and deserted; nevertheless, he made a cautious approach, fearing treachery.
When sure that no foes lay in wait, he entered the house, finding the kitchen door wide open.
The looting Indians had gutted the kitchen, taking everything that struck their fancy. The rest of the house they had not disturbed, there being nothing in it that they apparently cared for.
Buffalo Bill visited the room through whose floor he had made that violent plunge.
As when he had made his previous examinations of it, the hidden door was so cleverly concealed that he could not find it at first; but feeling sure now that such a door was there, he persisted, and by and by he discovered that by setting his foot in a certain place and stamping in a certain way the door dropped downward, revealing the black hole beneath.
He examined the door and the tunnel minutely, being compelled to spring the door open again, as it was weighted in such a manner that it closed instantly after being opened.