he evening. Our blankets we wrapped around our
shoulders, our feet we hung over the ledge toward the blaze, our backs
we leaned against the hollow slant of the cave's wall. We were not
uncomfortable. The beat of the rain sprang up in the darkness, growing
louder and louder, like horsemen passing on a hard road. Gradually we
dozed off.

For a time everything was pleasant. Dreams came fused with realities;
the firelight faded from consciousness or returned fantastic to our
half-awakening; a delicious numbness overspread our tired bodies. The
shadows leaped, became solid, monstrous. We fell asleep.

After a time the fact obtruded itself dimly through our stupor that the
constant pressure of the hard rock had impeded our circulation. We
stirred uneasily, shifting to a better position.

That was the beginning of awakening. The new position did not suit. A
slight shivering seized us, which the drawing closer of the blanket
failed to end. Finally I threw aside my hat and looked out. Jed
Parker, a vivid patch-work comforter wrapped about his shoulders, stood
upright and silent by the fire. I kept still, fearing to awaken the
others. In a short time I became aware that the others were doing
identically the same thing. We laughed, threw off our blankets,
stretched, and fed the fire.

A thick acrid smoke filled the air. The Cattleman, rising, left a
trail of incandescent footprints. We investigated hastily, and
discovered that the supposed earth on the slant of the cave was nothing
more than bat guano, tons of it. The fire, eating its way beneath, had
rendered untenable its immediate vicinity. We felt as though we were
living over a volcano. How soon our ledge, of the same material, might
be attacked, we had no means of knowing. Overcome with drowsiness, we
again disposed our blankets, resolved to get as many naps as possible
before even these constrained quarters were taken from us.

This happened sooner and in a manner otherwise than we had expected.
Windy Bill brought us to consciousness by a wild yell.

Consciousness reported to us a strange, hurried sound like the long
roll on a drum. Investigation showed us that this cave, too, had
sprung a leak; not with any premonitory drip, but all at once, as
though someone had turned on a faucet. In ten seconds a very competent
streamlet six inches wide had eroded a course down through the guano,
past the fire and to the outer slope. And by the irony of fate