"Hello, there, Bill, you black imp," shouted the captain, "bring a light."
But Bill made no answer, although the command was several times repeated.
At last, Flint, in a rage, sprang up, and seizing a raw hide which he always kept handy for such emergencies, he went to the sleeping place of the negro, and struck a violent blow on the place where Bill ought to have been, but where Bill was not.
The captain started. "Has he, too, escaped me?" he exclaimed.
Flint went back, and for a few moments sat down by the table in silence. After awhile the horror at being alone in such a gloomy place, once more came over him.
"Who knows," he thought, "but this black imp may betray me into the hands of my enemies. Even he, should he be so disposed, has it in his power to come at night, and by fastening the entrance of the cavern on the outside, bury me alive!"
So Flint reasoned, and so reasoning, made up his mind to leave the cavern.
Flint had barely passed beyond the entrance of the cave, when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He crouched under the bushes in order to watch and listen.
He saw a party of six men approaching, all fully armed excepting one, who seemed to be a guide to the rest.
Flint fairly gnashed his teeth with rage as he recognised in this man his old associate—Jones Bradley.