"Did I scare you?" chuckled young Merkel.
"A little," Dick admitted. "I didn't know you had a lantern with you."
"Oh, I generally carry a small pocket torch," Bud replied. "Never can tell when you'll be caught out after dark."
The flashlight showed the cavern to be hewn out of solid rock, though how high the roof was, or how wide the walls from side to side, they could not judge, for their light was not powerful enough to penetrate. But the cave was, evidently, a big one.
Suddenly, as they walked along, Bud became aware of a growing sheen of light ahead of them. At first he thought it was but the reflection of his own torch on what might be crystals in the cave's sides or roof. But as they walked on the glow increased.
Nort and Dick also noticed it, and Nort exclaimed:
"Guess this is more of a tunnel than a cave. I see daylight ahead."
"'Tisn't daylight—too red for that," objected Bud. "Looks more like a fire."
And, a moment later, as they rounded a turn, they saw that the light was caused by a fire. It was a fire blazing on the floor of the cavern. Over the fire, suspended on a tripod, was a black kettle, a veritable witch-caldron and, bending over it, if not a witch, was a good imitation of one. For it was the figure of an old man—a man with long, straggling white hair and a flowing white beard, as the flames revealed. It was the same old man who had called at the ranch with his sinister warning when he sold the Elixer of Life.
"Look!" murmured Bud, but he need not have said this. His two cousins were looking with all the power of their staring eyes.