“I hope no one has entered during our absence. Dohma, to my knowledge, was the first Indian who ever visited it; then came Renadah.”
“It seems fatal for Indians to visit here,” said Dorsey Webb, with a smile. “Hitherto they have met with a warm reception, which is not encouraging for the red man.”
The torch was lifted again, fanned into a good blaze, and they started back. The journey was accompanied with much toil; there were masses of broken rock to surmount, and near two hours were spent in the feat.
Suddenly Silver Rifle reached forward, and took the torch from her companion’s hand.
“What is it?” he asked, in a low whisper, believing that she had discovered something.
“I heard nothing,” was the reply. “We must extinguish the fire now, for we are very near the mouth of the cave.”
He did not reply, but saw the torch put out and dragged at her side.
“Hist!”
Silver Rifle’s lips touched his ear as she spoke the premonition of danger, and he instantly became as motionless as a statue.
The tread of moccasined feet was heard, and they divined that somebody was groping along the western wall of the cavern, which was very uneven, and provided with stony shelves.