The treasure of Mushroom Rock

by Sidford F. Hamp

There he lay, watching, while we followed Bates along the top of the ridge and in among the loose rocks which concealed the entrance to the little cañon, which in turn led up to the tunnel. Knowing nothing, and for the time suspecting nothing, of any such underground passage, Jack lay still, waiting for our reappearance, or at least for a sight of the smoke of our camp-fire, until dark, when he went back to the dry gully where he had left the horse and dog, and riding part way down the mountain again he made camp for the night. In a secluded hollow well concealed by the trees he lighted a little fire, and wrapping himself in the saddle-blanket, he passed a rather comfortless night; for at that altitude and at that time of year the night-frosts were decidedly sharp.

At daylight next morning he returned to his post of observation, and there he again kept watch until an hour after sunrise, waiting, in vain of course, for the telltale smoke of a camp-fire to inform him of our whereabouts. As no such smoke appeared he became convinced that the hiding-place must be some capacious cave, whose entrance was concealed among the loose rocks; and very much troubled he was to decide whether to go on or to give up the attempt. He decided at last to go on.

Riding down to the point where we had disappeared from view, he there left Toby standing, and went forward on foot, with Ulysses, who seemed perfectly to comprehend the state of the case, sniffing along in front of him. The ground was so hard that no sign of a hoof-mark was to be seen; nevertheless there must have been a lingering scent of the mules and horses, for the old dog, without any hesitation, led the way to the dry watercourse, and down it to the edge of the stream. There, to his great satisfaction, Jack picked up a shotgun cartridge, and at once he jumped to the conclusion that one of us had had the sense to drop it as a guide for him.

Hastening back he brought Toby down, and taking up Ulysses on the saddle—not knowing but that the stream might be strong enough to knock the dog’s feet from under him and send him rolling over the fall—he rode up the steep incline until he came in view of the arched mouth of the tunnel.

“Ah,” thought he to himself, “so it is a cave.”

Once more he stopped to consider whether to go on or to turn back, and once more he decided to go on.

Advancing into the cavern until there was but a glimmer of light behind him and perfect darkness ahead, he stopped again, this time for three or four minutes, listening with all his ears. There was no sound of voices, no sound of a horse snorting or shaking himself, no crackling of a fire, no smell of smoke. Jack began to suspect that the cave was merely a passage. To make sure, he ventured to strike a match, and looking quickly around he saw that he was probably right; there was no opening visible anywhere, the walls were quite solid. At the same time he observed that the reason he could not see daylight ahead was that a big bulge in the wall at one side cut off his view.

Throwing the match into the water, he advanced around the bulge and rode on slowly until he came in sight of the second dry watercourse which led down to the valley, and there he paused again to listen. It was well he did so. He had not been standing there one minute ere he distinctly heard the click of horseshoes on the bare stone, and a moment afterwards Squeaky rode into view, coming leisurely up the gully.

Jack backed away until he could no longer see the approaching enemy, and then turning about he rode quickly but silently back to the far side of the bulge. There, leaving Ulysses on the saddle, and putting the reins into the dog’s mouth, with an order to keep quiet, he himself slipped into the water, and wading some steps forward, squatted down in the middle of the pool, his head and his hands only being above the surface. It was not his intention to risk a shot in the dark,—indeed, he was as much opposed to shooting a man as we were,—but he hoped to be able to seize Squeaky by the foot as he passed and to throw him from his horse into the water, when he would have a good chance of mastering him.

Meanwhile Squeaky came riding into the tunnel, quite unsuspicious of Jack’s presence, and advanced straight upon him, until Jack, fearing that he was about to be trodden upon, was on the point of hitting the horse upon the side of its head with his rifle-barrel to make it swerve, when the horse itself, suddenly thrusting forward its nose, snorted in Jack’s face and whirled round. This unexpected action unseated Squeaky, who fell flat upon his face upon the water, at the same time dropping his rifle, which exploded as it fell.