ered and found themselves within a cavern
and in total darkness.

"We may rest a bit now," said the scout. "There's a ledge hereabouts.
There you are. Sit down. I'll have to take your hand here lest you
fall off the bridge into the holes on each side o' the track."

"Are the holes dangerous?" asked Leather.

"They're dangerous enough to be worth takin' care of, anyhow, for if ye
was to tumble into one you'd never come out again. There, now, let's go
on, for if I don't git back soon, they'll be wonderin' if the monster
hasn't run away wi' me too, as well as you!"

After advancing a short distance in total darkness--Ben feeling his way
carefully step by step--they came suddenly to the hole in the front of
the cave to which reference has been already made. The place had
evidently been used before as a place of refuge and temporary abode,
for, near this front-mouth of the cave was found a litter of pine
branches which had plainly been used as a bed.

"Sit ye down there, Leather," said the scout, "see, or, rather, hear--
for the eyes aren't of much use just now--I've set down the grub an' a
flask o' water beside ye. Don't strike a light unless you want to have
your neck stretched. Daylight won't be long o' lettin' ye see what's
goin' on. You won't weary, for it'll be as good as a play, yourself
bein' chief actor an' audience all at the same time!"

Saying this the scout melted, as it were, into the darkness of the
cavern, and, with noiseless moccasined feet, retraced his steps to the
rear entrance.

Left to himself the poor wanderer found both time and food for
reflection, for he did not dare in the darkness to move from the spot
where he had seated himself. At first an eerie feeling of indefinable
fear oppressed him, but this passed away as the busy thoughts went
rambling back to home and the days of comparative innocence gone by.
Forgetting the dark surroundings and the threatening dangers, he was
playing again on the river banks, drinking liquorice-water, swimming,
and rescuing kittens with Charlie Brooke. Anon, he was wandering on the
sea-beach with his sister, brown-eyed Mary, or watching the manly form
of his old friend and chum buffeting the waves towards the wreck on the
Sealford Rocks. Memory may not be always faithful, but she is often
surprisingly prompt. In the twinkling of an eye Shank Leather had
crossed the Atlantic again and was once more in the drinking and
gambling saloons--the "Hells" o