What he saw was an ore-dump, off at one side of the cañon. The mound of broken rocks was surmounted by a plank platform. Five horses were hitched to bushes, not far from the ore-dump, but their riders were not in evidence.
Wild Bill halted his horse, once more, and looked from the ore-dump to the horses, and then around the cañon. While his eyes were busy, there came a third rifle-shot.
“By gorry!” he exclaimed, and gave a low laugh. “This thing begins to clear up a little, Crawling Bear. There’s a mine here, and probably the mine has a drift running down the gulch. The shots we heard really came from under us, but they came from the bottom of the mine.”
“Ugh!” grunted the Ponca. “Why Yellow Eyes make um shoot in mine? No got um game in mine.”
“Now you’re shouting, my redskin friend. What there is to shoot at, in that mine, is a conundrum that your Uncle William is going to work out. Maybe there’s no game to shoot at down there, but there’s a game being pulled off that needs looking into.”
Wild Bill tossed his bridle-reins to the Ponca and slipped down from the saddle.
“You go down in mine, huh?” queried Crawling Bear.
“That’s my intention,” was the answer.
“Five ponies, five Yellow Eyes down in mine. Mebbyso Crawling Bear better go with Wild Bill.”
A smile curled about Wild Bill’s lips.