Meanwhile, the two boys went cautiously along further into the tunnel, which appeared to be of natural origin, as though a stream had eaten its way through the porous rock in search of an outlet—a sort of natural drain. The hole, originally small, had been enlarged by digging up to its present size. There was a continual rise in the floor of the tunnel as it receded from the water, and the floor of it was wet with a very small stream trickling down toward the entrance.
The boys had proceeded perhaps a hundred feet from the entrance, when they came upon a sudden enlargement in the tunnel which took almost the form of a large room. The top or ceiling was so high as to be invisible to them, and the place itself was evidently a natural cavern. Whitey lighted a match, and its flare disclosed the fact that the chamber was some twenty-five or thirty feet across, and in it, among other things, were several large barrels and packing-cases.
As the boys started to cross the room, keeping a little to the side, the match went out and they were again enveloped in darkness so thick that they could feel it. Whitey was about to scratch another match, but he felt Injun's hand clutch his arm and draw him still further toward the side of the chamber. Whitey had heard nothing, and knew of no reason for this; but he was quite willing to be guided by Injun's superior senses.
In a few seconds, however, he heard foot-steps coming toward them from the upper end of the chamber, and caught a faint glimmer of light. Injun hastily and noiselessly pulled Whitey toward one of the boxes that were scattered about that side of the chamber, and behind this the two boys crouched as the sound of the foot-steps indicated that some one was coming in their direction. Whitey's heart was beating so loud that he felt sure that any one who came near him must surely hear it. A moment afterward this was probably true in Injun's case, also—and for a good reason!
Into the far end of the chamber came the light of a lantern, and as it illuminated the space about the man who carried it, Whitey could see that he was dark-haired and swarthy, though rather under-sized, but very wiry. He was clad in a multi-colored Mackinaw jacket, with the regulation cowman's trousers and boots, with his revolver in the holster at his side. The man came directly toward the boys and Whitey instinctively grasped the handle of the little pearl-handled .22 that Atherton had given him and which he had always carried in the hip-pocket of his trousers. True, he had his rifle with him; but he felt that at close quarters the revolver would be more valuable. (Even a .22 fired at close range can be annoying; besides, he might throw it at the man and do more damage than if he shot him with it!)
The man came directly to the box behind which the two boys were hidden and it seemed as though discovery was inevitable; had he lifted the lantern high, it could not have been avoided. But he placed it onto the floor and reached down into the box and took out several objects which the boys afterward saw to be bottles of liquor of some kind. He was so close that either Injun or Whitey could have put out a hand and touched him, and they could hear his heavy breathing, for plainly he was partially drunk. Each of the boys held himself tense, and was ready for a vigorous defense, and against the knife that Injun gripped in his hand, to say nothing of the pop-gun that Whitey held, the man, unprepared as he was, would probably have fared badly.
But at length, when he had taken out several bottles, he picked up the lantern from the floor and started to retrace his steps. Suddenly he stopped and came back near to the box. Setting down the bottles, he picked up one of the burned matches that Whitey had thrown on the floor of the chamber and examined it carefully. Again the boys held their breath, and Whitey upbraided himself for his carelessness. After examining the match for a moment or two, the man took up the lantern and looked about the chamber. He started as though to go out toward the entrance, but thought better of it; and after another cursory look about him, he went away as he had come. The sound of his foot-falls became fainter and fainter; the light from the lantern grew dimmer and dimmer; and at last, the foot-falls died away entirely, and complete darkness enveloped them again. For a moment they crouched in silence; then Whitey felt Injun's hand grasp his arm, and heard Injun whisper into his ear:
"Him Pedro!" he said.