The direct result of this exchange of shots was to make the two parties
more cautious. Mickey and Fred kept further away from the camp-fire,
which they suffered to die out gradually. There was really no need
fot it, and, since its presence meant danger, it was only prudent to
dispense with it altogether.
For fully a half hour not the slightest movement or disturbance at the
opening betrayed the presence of any one there, although there could be
no doubt that their enemies were within call.
“I can't see what they can gain by loafing around them parts, as the
lassies used to obsarve in the ould country when any of the laddies
tried to cut me out wid 'em. They need n't watch for us to come out
that way, for there ain't much danger of our trying to steal out of that
hole---”
“Holloa! Look there!” exclaimed Fred, in considerable excitement; “some
of them are coming down to catch us.”
Mickey had already noticed that something unusual was up, and, just
as the lad spoke, the figure of what seemed to be a man blocked up the
opening, and then began slowly descending, as if supported by a rope,
with which his friends were lowering him into the lower room. His form
was swathed with a blanket, and there was a certain majesty in the
slowly sinking figure, which would have been very impressive but for
the fact that it was hardly started when the thin cord by which it
was suspended began to twist and untwist, causing the form to revolve
forward and backward in a way that was fatal to dignity.
On the impulse of the moment, the Irishman had raised his gun to fire
the moment his eyes rested upon the figure. But he restrained himself,
not a little puzzled to guess the meaning of such a proceeding. The man,
as they believed him to be, was slowly lowered, until something like a
dozen feet below the opening, where those who had him in charge seemed
to think was the proper place to hold him on exhibition for a time.
“Are you going to shoot?” asked the boy, who did not understand the
delay.
“What's the use?” he asked, with an expression of disgust.
“Why, it will stop the man coming down on us.”
“Man, do ye say? He ain't any more a man than me gun is.”
“What, then, can he be?”
“He's a blanket that they've twisted up so as to look as though it is
gathered about the shoulders of an Apache. It's easy to see that there's
nothing in it from the way it swings around, as though it was a little
toy; and, be the same token, that little cord which holds him aloft is
no thicker than a darning-needle. Why they are thrying such a simple
thrick is more than I can tell.”
“I think I know,” said Fred. “They've dropped him down to find out
whether we're on the watch or not. If we didn't pay any attention to it,
they would think that neither of us was on the look-out, and they would
send some others down to scalp us.”
“Be the powers, me laddy, I b'lave ye are right!” exclaimed Mickey,
admiringly. “That's just the plan of the spalpeens, by which towken,
I'll tip him a shot.”
With this he raised his rifle, and, sighting rather carelessly, fired.
The shot, which was aimed at the roll of blanket, missed it altogether
and cut the string which held it suspended in mid-air.
The next moment there was a dull thump upon the sand, and the package
lay at the feet of the Irishman, who gave it a kick to make sure of its
nature. It rebounded several feet, the resistance to the blow showing
that there was nothing more than the simple blanket, and then he stooped
over and examined it more closely by the sense of touch.
“'Twas very kind of the spalpeens to furnish us with a blanket that
saams as good as this, though the weather ain't so cold that we naad it
just now; but sometimes the rain comes and the northers blow, and then a
chap is mighty glad to have seech a convanient article about. 'Twas very
kind I say.”
The result of the little experiment upon the part of the Apaches, it was
apparent, was not satisfactory to them. The boy was right in his surmise
of its purpose; but it cannot be supposed that they counted upon losing
the blanket under any circumstances. It was a costly and beautiful one,
such as are made by the Indians of the southwest, and it was new enough
to be clean, so that the two fugitives had secured a prize. At all
events, the Apaches must have concluded that the people below were
keeping watch and ward so well that no one could descend into the cave
without danger of being perforated by a rifle ball.
Shortly after this occurrence it began to grow dark above, but the
cause was obvious. The day was drawing to a close. Darkness, only less
profound than that within the cave below, was enwrapping the surface
above.
As soon as the night had fairly descended, Mickey O'Rooney, handling
a small torch with great care, made his way once more to the puzzling
outlet of the underground stream. The inspection satisfied him of the
accuracy of his theory. Not the slightest tinge of light relieved the
impenetrable gloom. Mickey considered this strong proof that it was
but a short distance to the free air outside, and his courage rose very
nearly to the sticking point of making the experiment then and there.
“But we both naad sleep,” he mused, as he threw down his torch, and made
his way back by the dull glare of the expiring camp-fire. “We both lost
considerable last night, and a chap can't kaap reg'lar hours any more
than he can when he's coorting three lassies at the same time, and
thrying to kaap aich from suspecting it. I faal as though we shall
have something lively to do to-morrow, and so we'd better gain all the
slumber we kin.”
When he reached the camp, he found the lad anxiously awaiting his
return. They had signaled to each other several times, but the presence
of the danger overhead rendered the boy more uneasy than usual when they
were apart.
“Have ye observed nothing?” asked Mickey, in an undertone.
“Nothing at all.”
“It's too dark I know, to see, but mebbe yees have heerd something to
tell ye that the spalpeens are up there still.”
“You may be sure I listened all I know how, but everything has kept as
still as the grave. I haven't heard the fall of a pebble even. What do
you think the Indians mean to do?”
“Well it's hard to tell. It fooks as though they didn't think we fell
in, but had come down on purpose, and had some way of getting out as
easy, and they're on the look out for us.”
“Maybe, Mickey, there's some other way of coming in, that we haven't
been able to find.”
“I hoped so a while ago, but I've guv it up. If them spalpeens knowed of
any other way, what do they mean by fooling around that place up there,
where they're likely to get shot if they show themselves, and they're
likely to lose the best blankets they've got?”
Fred did not feel competent to answer this question, and so he was
forced to believe that Mickey was right in his conclusion that there was
no other way of entering the cave than by the skylight above.
“Which the same thing being the case, I propose that we thry and see how
the new blanket answers for a bed. Begorrah! but its fine, as me mither
used to say when she run her hands over the head of me dad, and felt the
lumps made by the shillelah.”
And, having spread the blanket out in the dark-ness, he rubbed his hands
over its velvety surface, admiring its wonderful texture. The texture
is such that water can be carried in these Apache blankets with as much
certainty as in a metal vessel. But Fred protested against both lying
down to sleep at the same time. He thought it likely that the Apaches
meant to visit the cave during the night; but his friend laughed his
fears to scorn, assuring him that there could be no danger at all. In
view of the reception tendered the blanket, the Apaches would take it
for granted that the parties beneath were too vigilant to permit anyone
to steal a march upon them.
Mickey at once attested his sincerity by stretching out upon the
inviting couch, and Fred concluded at last to join him. It was not long
before the Irishman was sound asleep, but the lad lay awake a long
time, looking reflectively up at the spot where he knew the opening to
be,--the opening which had been the means of letting himself and comrade
down into that dismal retreat of solitude,--and wondering what their
enemies were doing.
“They must know that I am here. Lone Wolf will punish them if they don't
keep me, so I am sure they will do all they can to catch me again. I
wish I was certain that there was no way of getting in but through that
up there, and then I could sleep too, but I feel too scared to do it
now.”
This anxiety kept him awake a long time after Mickey became unconscious;
but, as hour after hour passed and the stillness remained unbroken,
his fears were gradually dissipated and a feeling of drowsiness began
stealing over him.
Before consciousness entirely departed, he turned upon his side, that
being the posture he generally assumed when asleep. As he made the
movement and his ear was placed against the blanket, which in its turn
rested upon the ground, he heard something which aroused his suspicions
instantly and he raised his head. But when he rested on his hands, with
his shoulders thrown up, he could hear nothing at all. The earth was a
better conductor of sound than the atmosphere, which accounted for what
at first seemed curious.
The boy applied his ear as before, and again he heard the noise,
faintly, but distinctly; As the eye was of no use, he pressed his head
against the blanket and listened. Several minutes were occupied in this
manner, and then he said, in an undertone:
“I know what it is!--it is somebody walking as softly as he can. There
is another way of getting into this cavern, and those Apaches have found
it out. They've got inside and are hunting for us!”