Frank replied, always on the side of caution.

"But I say, Frank, is the fact that he's private property going to make
any difference; that is, do I shoot straight if I get the chance again?"

"Well, I say yes," answered the other. "Given half a chance and he'd
maul us the worst way. No matter who's property he may be, I'd advise
him to keep clear of Haywood and Archer. They're marked,
dangerous--hands and claws off, but come along, Bob; let's be moving."

"Wait, there it comes again, Frank. Don't you think we'd better lie
down till the worst is over?" ventured Bob, as he caught the opening
notes of the mighty anvil chorus that would soon be in full blast.

"Well, now, perhaps that wouldn't be a bad idea, Bob. Suppose we do
stretch out here, you facing one way and I another."

The two crouched there. Frank had thrust the torch into a crevice, for
he wanted the use of both hands in gripping his rifle. If the wild
beast guardian of the cave tried to attack them again, he felt that he
would like to be in a position to shoot.

"Feel the wind, will you?" called Bob, as the sounds mounted higher and
higher.

"I'm afraid our torch is going to be blown out," Frank replied,
pointing to the flaring light, which was being hard pressed by the
suction that seemed to rush through the cave, heading always toward the
mouth.

"Say, Frank, the air feels wet!" shouted Bob, while the racket was at
its height.

Of course this was no special news to Frank. He, too, had noticed the
same thing, and mentally commented on it. And as it was in line with
certain suspicions which he already entertained, he had felt amply
repaid for taking such hazards in plunging into that black cave.

Then suddenly an extra strong blast put the torch out.

"Wow! there she goes, Frank! What will we do now?" yelled Bob, of
course feeling a new uneasiness because of the intense darkness, the
presence of an angry animal near by, and the general air of mystery
that hung over the scene.

"Nothing. Just wait till the storm blows by; and then we'll light up
again," was what Frank shouted back at him.

Already it was diminishing. Like the receding waves of the great ocean
the uproar died down, growing fainter with each pulsation.

And finally there came again the silence that in one way was almost as
dreadful as the clamor; during which Frank proceeded to light the torch
again, though not without some difficulty.

"Frank, you felt that wet sen