arrangement of weather-worn poles that
supported a sagging platform, and with a non-committal grunt, led the
way toward the ledge. The spot was reached after a short climb, and by
ascending to another ledge close behind the first, the two were able to
look down upon the platform, which was raised about eight feet from the
floor of its rock-ledge.

"Funny bunch of stuff to _cache_!" exclaimed the boy. "I'll tell you
what it is, there's a grave here. I've seen the Indians over on the
Yukon put stuff out beside a grave. It's for the dead man to use in the
Happy Hunting Ground."

The Indian shook his head. "No. Ain' no grave here."

"Maybe they buried him there beside the rock," ventured the boy.

"No. Injun ain' bury lak' white man. If de man ees here, she would be on
de rocks, lak de _cache_. Injun lay de dead man on de rock an' mak' de
leetle pole house for um."

"Well, what in thunder would anyone want to _cache_ that stuff 'way out
here for? Look, there's a blanket, and it's been here so long it's about
rotted to pieces, and a pipe, and moccasins, and there's the stock of a
rifle sticking out beneath the blanket--those things have been there a
long time--a year or two at least. But there's grub there, too. And the
grub is fresh--it hasn't been there more than a month."

'Merican Joe was silent, and as the boy turned toward him, he caught him
glancing furtively over his shoulder toward the dark patches of timber
that blotched the hillside. "I ain' lak dis place. She no good," he
muttered, as he caught the boy's glance.

"What's the matter with it?" smiled Connie. "What do you make of it?"

For answer, 'Merican Joe turned abruptly and descended to the shore of
the lake. At the extremity of a rocky point that afforded a sweeping
view of the great hillside, he stopped and waited for Connie to join
him. "Dis place, she ain' no good," he reiterated, solemnly.

"What's the matter with it?" repeated the boy. "You said all along,
until we came across that _cache_, that it was a dandy lake to trap
foxes on."

"Good for fox, mebbe--but no good for Injun. Me--I'm t'ink I'm pull up
dem trap, an' fin' som' nudder place."

"Pull up nothing!" cried the boy. "After all that work setting them?
Buck up! What's the matter with you anyhow?"

"Dat _cache_--she lak you say--lak de grave _cache_. But dey ain' no
grave! Dat mus' got to be de _tamahnawus cache_!"

"_Tamahnawus cache!_" laughed the boy. "_Tamahnawuses_ don't make