yond measure to learn that both had
taken the same route, one actually passing the other without either
suspecting it. On his part, Hazletine related all that he had passed
through, and explained the reason of his ascent of the canyon some time
before, when he was observed by the wondering lads.

Meanwhile, where was Fred Greenwood?

CHAPTER XIX.

INTO THE CAVERN.

Hank Hazletine and Jack Dudley having failed to find the missing Fred
Greenwood, let us try our hand at the task.

Going back to that afternoon when the elder youth from his concealment
on the crest of the ridge fired down into the little herd of antelope
grazing in the valley in front of him, and secured a supper for the two,
it will be remembered that Fred had started along the side of the
valley, with a view of placing himself beyond the game and rendering the
success of himself and friend certain.

He never dreamed of danger to himself. His attention was fixed upon the
pretty animals, and, hungry as he was, he felt a sympathy for them,
knowing that in all probability one of the number would be sacrificed.
Nevertheless, he put forth the utmost pains to prevent their taking
alarm, and there is hardly a doubt that he would have succeeded in his
purpose but for the catastrophe which overtook him when half the
distance had been passed.

Suddenly, while he was stealing forward in a crouching posture, a low,
threatening voice reached his ear. Only the single word, "_Stop!_" was
uttered, but it could not have startled the youth more than the whir of
a rattlesnake under his feet. Before he could straighten up he turned
his head like a flash. Not a rod distant, kneeling upon one knee, was
Motoza, the Sioux, with his Winchester aimed at him!

Believing that he would press the trigger of his weapon the next moment,
Fred Greenwood was transfixed. He could only look at his enemy and await
the end. He was without the power to raise a finger in his own defence.

"Drop gun!" commanded his master. The words showed the lad that he had a
few minutes at least to live, but the "drop" was on him and he promptly
obeyed.

"Drop little gun!" added the Sioux, who never wavered in keeping his
rifle pointed at the chest of the young man.

Fred withdrew his revolver and flung it at his feet. He was now without
a single firearm. An infant could not have been more helpless.

As yet he had not spoken a word. He recalled the warning of Jack Dudley,
and knew the fero