Here a circular cavern had been hollowed out in past ages by the falling water; the subterranean stream finding an outlet at one side, where another pit dropped away into the heart of the mountain to an unknown depth.
The circular cavern was a most beautiful place, crystal stalactites hanging from its arched roof, while pointed stalagmites were strewn over the floor.
It had been, however, many, many years since there had been a particle of moisture in this cavern. There was a good current of air, and it was dry.
All this the white boys discovered when they reached the end of the rope and stood beside the Indian, Chet turned almost immediately to the cavity into the mining tunnel. It had been recently dug, without a doubt, for there were bright scales of quartz rock lying about and a pile of freshly excavated earth.
“Whew!” muttered Dig in Chet’s ear. “I’d really like to know who did this, wouldn’t you?”
“It wasn’t my father, I’ll be bound,” responded Chet, in the same tone. “There must be somebody interested in the old Crayton diggings besides him. Hush!”
John Peep came back to them. He brought a pick and shovel from some hiding place in the darker end of the cavern. To all appearances they were new implements.
“White boys want to dig into other mine,” he said briefly. “You come. I show.”
“Heap good,” grunted Dig, with a grin.
But the Indian paid him no attention, merely handing him the shovel, while he gave the pickaxe to Chet. Then he stooped to crawl into the newly-excavated passage.