tay with the cripples. So Paul crawled away, with
but one match in his possession, and feeling in anything but a cheerful
mood, although he would not discourage his chums by saying a word that
would add to the gloom.

He moved cautiously as he advanced, remembering how ugly that pit had
looked when Bobolink struck his match; and not wishing to find himself
tumbling into such a sink. Just how long he was creeping along in this
way after leaving his chums Paul hardly knew, but he must have covered
quite some distance. And thus far the current of air did not seem to
warrant a belief that an opening was very close by.

He was feeling discouraged, and on the point of giving it up as a bad
job when he tripped over some object that, of course, he had not seen in
the pitch dark. In trying to save himself from falling he upset
something that made quite a clatter as it struck the rocks; when to
Paul's amazement he heard a voice call out:

"Who's that?" and accompanying the words came the scratching of a
match.

CHAPTER XXXII

THE TIN BOX AGAIN

Paul stared, and well he might; as the match flamed up he found himself
confronting a man who had evidently been sleeping on the floor of the
cavern, for he had just thrown a blanket aside.

And Paul recognized him instantly as the party who had passed them on
that noon, in the rig which he imagined must have been stolen--the man
he had reason to believe Joe suspected to be connected with the robbery
of his father.

Feeling that he would be apt to receive a hostile reception here, Paul
turned to run. He hoped that, as the match went out, the other would not
know just where to look for him, and thus he might escape.

But to his surprise, as he turned he found that another man faced him,
who must have been located at a point he had passed while creeping along
close to the wall.

Before Paul could dodge, this fellow had clasped his arms about him. The
other was hastily lighting some sort of lantern, with which he seemed
to be provided.

Although Paul struggled sturdily he was hardly a match for a full grown
man.

"Keep still, you!" the fellow growled in his ear; "or I'll give yer
somethin' you won't like. Bring the light here, Hank. Let's see what
sort o' a critter we've bagged, anyhow."

Of course they knew the instant they saw Paul's suit of khaki,
discolored even though it was from the rain and dirt.

"Huh! another o' them boy scouts you was tellin' me about, eh,