e side of the entrance to this compartment, were five
or six pieces of rock about a foot high, placed in a small circle so that
their tops came near enough together to support a tin kettle which was
resting upon them. Under the kettle, in the centre of the rocks, was a
pile of burnt leaves and sticks.

"Here he has cooked his meals," said the captain--for the pallet made up
of all the others had convinced him that it had been one man who had been
here after his party had left. "He stayed long enough to cook his meals
and sleep," thought the captain. "I'll look into this provision
business." Passing through the other rooms, he went to a deep niche in
the wall of the entrance passage where his party had kept their stores,
and where Edna had written him they had left provisions enough for the
immediate use of himself and the men who should return. Here he found tin
cans tumbled about at the bottom of the niche, and every one of them
absolutely empty. On a little ledge stood a tin box in which they had
kept the matches and candles. The box was open, but there was nothing in
it. On the floor near by was a tin biscuit-box, crushed nearly flat, as
if some one had stamped upon it.

"He has eaten everything that was left," said the captain, "and he has
been starved out. Very likely, too, he got out of water, for, of
course, those pools would dry up, and it is not likely he found the
stream outside."

Now the captain let down the hammer of his revolver, and put it in his
belt. He felt sure that the man was not here. Being out of provisions, he
had to go away, but where he had gone to was useless to conjecture. Of
another thing the captain was now convinced: the intruder had not been a
Rackbird, for, while waiting for the disappearance of the Chilian
schooner, he had gone over to the concealed storehouse of the bandits,
and had found it just as he had left it on his last visit, with a
considerable quantity of stores remaining in it. If the man had known of
the Rackbirds' camp and this storehouse, it would not have been necessary
for him to consume every crumb and vestige of food which had been left in
these caves.

"No," said the captain, "it could not have been a Rackbird, but who he
was, and where he has gone, is beyond my comprehension."

CHAPTER XXII

A PACK-MULE

When Captain Horn felt quite sure that it was not Ralph, that it was not
Cheditafa, that it was not a Rackbird, who had visited the treasure
mound,