the troops outwitted by the scout and his friends.

creeping quickly to the mouth of the cave leather peeped cautiously out, and the scene that met his startled gaze was not calculated to restore that equanimity which his recent dreams had disturbed.

the narrow and rugged valley which lay spread out below him was alive with horsemen, trotting hither and thither as if searching for some one, and several parties on foot were scaling gorges and slopes, up which a horseman could not scramble.

the shout which had awakened the fugitive was uttered by a dismounted trooper who had climbed higher on the face of the cliff than his fellows, and wished to attract the attention of those below.

“hi! hallo!” he cried, “send hunky ben up here. i’ve found a track that seems to lead to somewhere, but it’ll need the scout’s nose to ferret it out.”

leather’s heart beat wildly, for, from the position of the man, he could not doubt that he had discovered the track leading up to the cave. before he could think how he should act, a response came to the call from hunky ben.

“ay, ay,” he shouted, in a voice so bold and resonant, that leather felt it was meant to warn him of his danger, “ay, ay. hold on! don’t be in a hurry. the tracks branch out further on, an’ some o’ them are dangerous. wait till i come up. there’s a cave up there, i’ll lead ye to it.”

this was more than enough for leather. he turned hastily to survey his place of refuge. it was a huge dismal cavern with branching tunnels around that disappeared in thick obscurity, and heights above that lost themselves in gloom; holes in the sides and floor that were of invisible depth, and curious irregular ledges, that formed a sort of arabesque fringe to the general confusion.

one of these ornamental ledges, stretching along the roof with many others, lost itself in the gloom and seemed to be a hopeful living-place—all the more hopeful that it was in the full blaze of light that gushed in through the front opening of the cave. this opening, it will be remembered, was on the face of the cliff and inaccessible. but leather found that he could not reach the ledge. hastening to the dark side of the cave, however, he saw that by means of some projections and crevices in the rocky wall he could reach the end of the ledge. creeping along it he soon found himself close to the opening, surrounded by strong light, but effectually concealed from view by the ledge. it was as if he were on a natural rafter, peeping down on the floor below! as there was a multitude of such ledges around, which it would take several men many hours to examine, he began to breathe more freely, for, would the searchers not naturally think that a fugitive would fly to the darkest recesses of his place of refuge, rather than to the brightest and most accessible spot?

he gave vent to a sigh of relief, and was congratulating himself upon his wisdom, when his eyes chanced to fall on the flask of water and cold roast fowl and loaf lying conspicuous in the full glare of light that flooded the front part of the cave!

if the fowl had been thrust whole into his throat it could scarcely have added to the gush of alarm that choked him. he slipped incontinently from his arabesque ledge and dropped upon the floor. securing the tell-tale viands with eager haste he dashed back into the obscurity and clambered with them back to his perch. and not much too soon, for he had barely settled down when the voice of the scout was heard talking pretty loudly.

“come along, captain wilmot,” he said, “give me your hand, sir. it’s not safe to walk alone here, even wi’ a light.”

“here, where are you? oh! all right. haven’t you got a match?” asked the captain.

“nothin’ that would burn more’n a few seconds. we’re better without a light, for a gust o’ wind might blow it out an’ leave us worse than we was. mind this step. there.”

“well, i’m glad i didn’t bring any of my men in here,” said the captain, as he kicked one of his heavy boots violently against a projection of rock.

“ay—’tis as well you didn’t,” returned the scout, in a tone suggestive of the idea that he was smiling. “for there’s holes on both sides, an’ if one o’ your men went down, ye might read the funeral sarvice over him at once, an’ be done with it. there’s a glimmer o’ daylight at last. we’ll soon be at the other end now.”

“a horrible place, truly,” said the captain, “and one that it would be hard to find a fellow in even if we knew he was here.”

“didn’t i say so, captain? but ye wouldn’t be convinced,” said hunky ben, leading his companion into the full light of the opening and coming to a halt close to the ledge above which the fugitive lay. “besides, leather could never have found his way here alone.”

“you forget,” returned wilmot, with a peculiar smile, “the monster might have shown him the way or even have carried him hither.”

“ah, true,” answered the scout, with solemn gravity. “there’s somethin’ in that.”

wilmot laughed.

“what a splendid view,” he said, going forward to the opening—“and see, here is a bed of pine brush. no doubt the cave must have been used as a place of refuge by the redskins in days gone by.”

“ay, an’ by the pale-faces too,” said the scout. “why, i’ve had occasion to use it myself more than once. and, as you truly obsarve, sir, there’s small chance of findin’ a man once he’s in here. as well run after a rabbit in his hole.”

“or search for a needle in a haystack,” observed the captain, as he gazed with curious interest around and above him. “well, ben, i give in. you were right when you said there was no probability of my finding any of the outlaws here.”

“i’m ginerally right when i speak about what i understand,” returned the scout calmly. “so now, captain, if you’re satisfied, we may as well go an’ have a look at the other places i spoke of.”

assenting to this the two men left the place, but leather continued to lie perfectly still for a considerable time after their footsteps had died away. then, gliding from his perch, he dropped on the floor and ran to the opening where he saw the troopers still riding about, but gradually going farther and farther away from him. the scene was not perhaps, as the scout had prophesied, quite “as good as a play,” but it certainly did become more and more entertaining as the searchers receded and distance lent enchantment to the view.

when at last the troops had disappeared, shank bethought him of the food which hunky ben had so thoughtfully provided, and, sitting down on the brush couch, devoted himself to breakfast with a hearty appetite and a thankful spirit.

meanwhile captain wilmot, having satisfied himself that the outlaws had fairly escaped him, and that buck tom was too ill to be moved, retired to a cool glade in the forest and held a council of war with the scout and charlie brooke.

“now, ben,” he said, dismounting and seating himself on a mossy bank, while a trooper took charge of the horses and retired with them to a neighbouring knoll, “it is quite certain that in the present unsettled state of the district i must not remain here idle. it is equally certain that it would be sudden death to buck tom to move him in his present condition, therefore some men must be left behind to take care of him. now, though i can ill afford to spare any of mine, i feel that out of mere humanity some sacrifice must be made, for we cannot leave the poor fellow to starve.”

“i can relieve you on that point,” said the scout, “for if you choose i am quite ready to remain.”

“and of course,” interposed charlie, “i feel it my duty to remain with my old friend to the end.”

“well, i expected you to say something of this sort. now,” said the captain, “how many men will you require?”

“none at all, captain,” answered ben decisively.

“but what if these scoundrels should return to their old haunt?” said wilmot.

“let them come,” returned the scout. “wi’ mr brooke, an’ dick darvall, an’ three winchesters, an’ half-a-dozen six-shooters, i’d engage to hold the cave against a score o’ such varmin. if mr brooke an’ dick are willin’ to—”

“i am quite willing, ben, and i can answer for my friend dick, so don’t let that trouble you.”

“well, then, that is settled. i’ll go off at once,” said the captain, rising and signing to the trooper to bring up the horses. “but bear in remembrance, hunky ben, that i hold you responsible for buck tom. if he recovers you must produce him.”

the scout accepted the responsibility; the arrangements were soon made; “boots and saddles” was sounded, and the troopers rode away, leaving charlie brooke, dick darvall, buck tom, and the scout in possession of the outlaws’ cave.