“Then come. This black place look down into Mouseh’s cave, by ’m by.”
The route over which white and red crawled was fraught with dangers, for the subterranean portion of the Lava-Beds is honeycombed, and at any moment they were liable to be precipitated into some dark place from which escape might be impossible.
“I guess nobody will ’sturb our hosses,” said the scout. “We left them down by the Black Creek—that is, above the stream, on the bank.”
“Modocs all in caves,” said Cohoon. “If Warm Spring Indians find ’em, let ’em be, for they know who left ’em there.”
“But then— Hold, Cohoon, yonder’s a light, as I live.”
They came to an abrupt halt, and caught the glimmer of light far ahead.
“I can’t hear a word,” whispered the scout, after listening awhile. “Every thing’s as still as death. Mebbe the red devils hev left?”
Cohoon shook his head.
“Mouseh still in cave,” he said. “Crawl on, Kit.”
The scout moved forward again, and at length looked down into the Modocs’ cave.