wood that they
had collected for firing. This proved a wearisome business, for the logs
were heavy, and in his crippled state Mr. Clifford could carry no great
burden. Indeed, towards the end Benita was forced to complete the task
alone, while he limped beside her with his rifle, lest Jacob should
surprise them.

When at length everything was done it was long past midnight, and so
exhausted were they that, notwithstanding their danger, they flung
themselves down upon the canvas tent, which lay in a heap at the end of
the cave near the crucifix, and fell asleep.

When Benita woke the lamp had gone out, and it was pitch dark.
Fortunately, however, she remembered where she had put the matches and
the lantern with a candle in it. She lit the candle and looked at her
watch. It was nearly six o'clock. The dawn must be breaking outside,
within an hour or two Jacob Meyer would find that they had gone. Suppose
that his rage should overcome his fear and that he should creep upon
them. They would know nothing of it until his face appeared in the faint
ring of light. Or he might even shoot her father out of the darkness.
What could she do that would give them warning? A thought came to her.

Taking one of the tent ropes and the lantern, for her father still slept
heavily, she went down to the entrance of the cave, and at the end of
the last zigzag where once a door had been, managed to make it fast to a
stone hinge about eighteen inches above the floor, and on the other side
to an eye opposite that was cut in the solid rock to receive a bolt of
wood or iron. Meyer, she knew, had no lamps or oil, only matches and
perhaps a few candles. Therefore if he tried to enter the cave it was
probable that he would trip over the rope and thus give them warning.
Then she went back, washed her face and hands with some water that they
had drawn on the previous night to satisfy their thirst, and tidied
herself as best she could. This done, as her father still slept, she
filled the lamps, lit one of them, and looked about her, for she was
loth to wake him.

Truly it was an awful place in which to dwell. There above them towered
the great white crucifix; there in the corner were piled the remains of
the Portuguese. A skull with long hair still hanging to it grinned at
her, a withered hand was thrust forward as though to clutch her. Oh, no
wonder that in such a spot Jacob Meyer had seen ghosts! In front, too,
was the yawning grave where they had