"It's a crack in a rock, barely large enough for a man to squeeze into, and when you stand beside it, you can feel it breathe."
"Feel a rock breathe," sneered Lieutenant Fox, contemptuously. "Have you been drinking, Alkali?"
"No, sir. What I'm telling you about that Cave is the truth. And I can prove it."
"How?" demanded Smythe.
"By taking you to it."
"You know where it is?" exclaimed the sheriff and the officers, in pleased surprise.
"Sure I do. You ain't more than three rods from it this very minute."
"Then take us to it," ordered the captain. "Beyond a doubt, that's where the man we're after is hiding. Fox, go down and report to the colonel all we have learned. You might suggest that it would be well for him to come up here. He'll probably wish to take charge of the prisoner."
With no attempt to conceal his disappointment and displeasure at being sent by his superior to carry a message to the colonel that might just as well have been entrusted to a private, especially when the capture of the notorious outlaw who had led them such a merry chase seemed imminent, the lieutenant turned on his heel without replying, starting down the mountainside at a run.
Shouting and yelling in jubilation at the thought they would soon have the notorious outlaw securely bound and on his way back to the jail from which he had escaped, leaving a trail of Corpses behind him, the troopers swarmed after the half-breed.