a few minutes the two watchers beheld a painted savage
peep in at the opening of the centre cave. Seeing that it was empty,
and observing at a glance the opening into the inner cave, he drew back
quickly. A minute after, the four Indians darted across, and got out of
range of that opening--evidently fearing that some one was there. They
flitted past so quickly, yet noiselessly, that they appeared more like
shadows than real men.

Presently one of them stepped full in front of the opening with a bow
and arrow in his hand. The light of the fire was strong. March saw him
raise the bow, and had just time to draw back when an arrow whizzed past
him, and was broken to pieces on the rock behind his back. Instantly
after the echoes of the place burst forth as a shot was fired in the
same direction. Having thus made sure that the way was clear, the
boldest of the savages entered with a blazing pine-knot held high above
his head--the others following with bows ready, and arrows fitted to the
string.

On reaching the edge of the yawning chasm, the foremost savage held the
torch over it, and they all gazed in silence into its unfathomable
depths. Satisfied that it was impassable, they consulted for a few
minutes, and then, apparently coming to the conclusion that the place
was untenanted, they returned to the middle cave, and began to rummage
and toss about the things they found there.

"Bring the rifle," whispered March. "I can floor two at a shot as they
now sit."

"No," Mary replied firmly. "Why make blood? They will go 'way soon."

Mary was right; but a circumstance occurred which caused them to go away
sooner than either she or they had anticipated.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

A GALLOP TO THE RESCUE--A DISCOVERY--RIGHT-ABOUT FACE--A DISAGREEABLE
SURPRISE AND A SUDDEN EJECTION--A CALM AFTER THE STORM--MARY A
HUNTRESS--DICK'S STORY OF THE MURDERED TRAPPER.

When Dick, _alias_ the Wild Man of the West, left his cave, as narrated
in a previous chapter, and galloped away with reckless speed to afford
the aid of his stout right arm to his friends in the Mountain Fort--for
he counted them friends, although they little knew it--he felt that if
he was to be of any use he must travel over the country as he had never
travelled before, except once, when he had to fly for his life before
five hundred Pawnee warriors.

It was a grand sight to behold that herculean backwoodsman on his noble
steed, which seemed so well propor