The next minute Billie was sorry for what she had said. Teddy's face
clouded over and he looked at her unhappily.
"You ought to know that I didn't get you into this on purpose," he
muttered.
"Oh, Teddy, d-dear, I didn't mean it, you know I d-didn't," she
stammered, trying hard to control the chattering of her teeth. "I'm a
bad, mean, horrid girl. T-truly I didn't mean it," and she put her cold
little hand penitently over his great big one.
"I know you didn't," said Teddy, his face clearing instantly. "You're
cold and tired and all upset. Poor little kid, I wish I could do all the
_feeling_."
"Well, I'm glad you can't," said Billie, snuggling up close to him for
warmth. "For you have troubles enough of your own. Teddy!" She drew up
suddenly and stared at an object that caught her eye. "What is that
thing over there that looks like a tangle of twigs and leaves? No, not
that way. Over there--to the left."
Teddy followed the direction of her pointing finger and his face lighted
up with excitement. The "tangle of twigs and branches," as Billie had
described it, was close to the side of the fifteen-foot "precipice" over
which he and Billie had plunged a little while before.
The fact that the branches were not covered with snow certainly looked
as if they had been put there rather recently in a crude effort to hide
the entrance to something--perhaps a cave.
"That's worth having a look at," he said, jerking the sled up to him and
tightening his hold on Billie's arm. "Can you make it, Billie? The snow
seems to be deeper over this way."
"Oh, I can make it all right," answered Billie, stoutly, as she clenched
her teeth and shut her eyes and floundered on through the clinging snow.
"I guess I've got to make it!" she added, to herself.
They had almost reached their goal when suddenly they stepped into a
hole hidden by the snow and sank down in the icy whiteness until Billie
was almost up to her neck.
"Gosh," cried Teddy, as he struggled out to higher ground, pulling his
thoroughly frightened companion after him, "I hope there aren't many
more places like that around here. We'll make it all right, Billie. Say!
you're not crying, are you?" he broke off, with a boy's utter terror of
tears, as Billie dug two mittened and numbed hands into her smarting
eyes.
"No, I'm not crying," she answered, giving him a rather watery smile.
"I'm laughing. Can't you see I am?"
"Poor little kid," said Teddy for the second time that afternoon, and
the sympathy in his voice pretty nearly did send Billie into a downpour
of tears. She was so thoroughly miserable that it was all she could do
to keep from wailing her grief aloud. But Teddy had put one big
protecting arm around her now and was half carrying her over to that
strange object that looked so dark against the gleaming bank of snow.
Then he let Billie go, and while she shivered by herself he laid hold of
the branches and pulled with all his might.
"Ooh, look out!" called Billie. "There might be a bomb or something at
the other end. Oh-h!" The queer doorway gave so easily before the boy's
strength that he was sent staggering back against the snowdrift and sat
down in it most uncomfortably.
The next minute he was up again, had swept the branches and twigs aside,
and was examining the exposed opening with all a boy's eager curiosity.
Billie peered eagerly over his shoulder.
"What is it?" she asked, breathlessly.
"It's what I thought it was--a cave," answered Teddy, joyfully. "Come
inside, Billie. It will get you out of the wind anyway, and give you a
chance to warm up." He had put an arm about her again and was pushing
her forward with his usual impetuosity, but Billie hung back.
"We don't know what's in there," she protested, but Teddy refused to
listen to her.
"We don't know and we don't care," he informed her, masterfully, adding
as she still hung back: "We'll freeze to death out there, anyway."
"But, Ted, suppose some wild animal should be in there? You know that
bears hide in hollow trees and caves----"
"Bears sleep most of the winter. Besides, I don't think there are any
bears around here."
"But there might be a--a fox, or a wildcat."
"I'll take a chance on that. You must remember, the average wild beast
will get out of your way if you give it half a chance. Come on. As I
said before, if you stay out here, in this icy wind, you'll surely
freeze to death."
This argument appealed to her, and, with a shivering look over her
shoulder at the desert of whiteness behind, she stepped gingerly into
the blackness of the cave.
Then with a little nervous giggle she ran back again, got behind Teddy
and pushed him before her.
"Gentlemen first!" she said. "Anyway you're bigger than I am, Ted."
So Teddy, feeling as important as a boy always feels when he is
protecting a girl that he likes, walked boldly into the cave, stretching
a hand behind him for Billie to cling to.
"Come on, it's all right," he assured her. "You'll get used to the
darkness in a minute. The snow blinds you. Ouch! What was that?"
Billie gave a little choked scream and would have run out into the open
again, had not Teddy's grip on her hand prevented.
"Don't get scared," the boy said, and bent over to examine whatever it
was he had stubbed his toe against. "I didn't mean to yell like that,
but, gosh, that thing did give my toe an awful wallop! I say, look at
this!" and he held up an object that shone wanly white against the
blackness of the cave.
Billie, whose eyes had become a little accustomed to the darkness, saw
that what Teddy held looked like an old, broken water pitcher.
"A pitcher," she said, adding disgustedly: "And that was what I was
afraid of."
At the entrance, this queer hole in the mountain had been so low that
the two had been forced to stoop down to avoid knocking their heads on
the roof of it. But now, as they felt their way cautiously, they found
to their surprise that they could stand upright. The walls also seemed
to have widened out and they realized with a thrill of excitement that
they were in a real cave, dug into the side of the mountain.
In here it was darker than it had been at the entrance, and they had to
feel their way about cautiously to avoid colliding with each other or
the walls of the cave.
It was surprisingly warm and snug in there also, for the thick snow
wrapped them in the warmest and fleeciest of blankets, and the only
place for old Jack Frost to come in was the narrow entrance of the cave.
And once assured that the owner of the cave, whether man or animal, was
at that moment not at home, Billie began to feel a sense of exquisite
comfort. Her teeth had ceased to chatter, they were safe from the bitter
north wind, and she had Teddy to take care of her. What more could any
girl want?
As for Teddy, he had evidently found something over in one corner of the
cave that interested him immensely. He had stumbled by accident over
what seemed to be a pile of old junk, and now he was down on his hands
and knees trying to satisfy his curiosity by the sense of touch.
"Now aren't I the idiot!" he exclaimed suddenly, and Billie started at
the sudden sound of his voice in the darkness. "Here I go feeling around
like a blind man when I have some perfectly good matches in my pocket.
Come on over, Billie, and see what I've found."
Guided by the flare of a match, Billie made her way across the cave and
kneeled down beside the boy. Then they both stared in utter amazement at
what they saw.
Heaped up carelessly in the corner was a mass of so many and such
queerly assorted articles that it is no wonder the boy and girl were
puzzled.
There was an old alarm clock, rusty with age and disuse, a mirror,
several gaudy articles of jewelry that looked as if they might have been
found in ten-cent prize packages, a telephone receiver, a broken fishing
rod that stood lamely against the wall as though ashamed of its own
decrepit state, a sawdust doll, an empty tin can that evidently had once
contained bait, a talcum powder box full of scented violet talc--Billie
smelled it--and--but it would take too long to name all the strange
things that Billie and Teddy found there in the corner of the funny
little cave.
"Teddy," murmured Billie as the boy's match burnt out and he struck
another one, "what do you think these things are for? Who do you suppose
owns them?"
"How should I know?" asked Teddy, getting to his feet and looking
eagerly about the place, illumined fitfully by the flare of the match.
"Somebody comes here often, that's a sure thing. And judging by those
things," he waved toward the conglomeration of junk in the corner, "he
must be pretty simple."
"Oh, Teddy!" breathed Billie, moving closer to him. "Suppose he should
come and find us here?"
Teddy looked down at her with a grin.
"Why worry?" he asked. "Haven't you got your Uncle Ted?"
He had scarcely spoken when there came a terrifying sound. It was a
snarl of rage, half-animal, half-human.
The half-burned match dropped from Teddy's fingers. They were in the
dark.