y down the side of the rock into Vic Burleigh's
outstretched arms. As he set her on her feet, somehow, the little light
failed. In all their struggle, this part of the way seemed the darkest,
the chillest, the most dangerous, and a sudden sense of a presence
hidden nearby possessed them both, as they came against a blind wall. A
stouter heart than Vic Burleigh's might well have quailed now. The two
were lost underground. What deeper cavern might yawn beyond them? What
length of dead wall might bar their way? And more terrifying still,
was the growing sense of a human presence, a human menace, an unseen
treachery. As Vic felt his way along the stone, his hand closed over
something thrust into a little niche, shoulder-high in the wall. It
seemed to be a small pitcher of unique pattern, solid silver by its
weight. Was it the booty of some dead and forgotten robber chief, the
buried treasure of some old Kickapoo raiding tragedy, or the loot of a
living outlaw?

Vic thought he felt the outline of a letter graven in heavy relief
on the smooth side, and, for a reason of his own, dropped the thing.
Mercifully, he did not cry out at the discovery, but Elinor felt his
hand on her arm grow chill.

A dazzling glare, token of the passing of the storm's fireworks,
outlined an irregular opening in the wall before them, revealing at the
same time a large room beyond the wall.

"Here's the hole where we get out of this trap, Elinor Wream. If such a
big lightning like that can get in, we can get out," Vic cried.

He crawled through the opening, and pulled her as gently as possible
after him. Presently, another blaze lit up the night outside, showing
a cavern-like space thirty feet in dimensions, with a rock roof above
their heads, and a low doorway through which the light from the outside
had come in, and beyond which the rain was beating tremendously.
Evidently they had found a rear entrance to this cavern.

"We are past our troubles now, Elinor," Vic said. "There's the real
out-of-doors, and I feel sure of the rest of the way. This seems to be
a sort of cave, and we have come in kind of irregularly by the back door
or down the chimney. But here we are at the real front door. Shall we go
on?"

Elinor leaned wearily against the wall, wet and cold, and almost
exhausted.

"Let's wait a little, till this shower passes," she pleaded.

"You poor girl! This has been an awful night," Vic said gently.

Their eyes were getting accustom