Dan Carter and the Great Carved Face Part 26

Red and Brad both peered through a gap in the foliage. Some distance upstream, but well within their range of vision, White Nose and Eagle Feather could be seen paddling close to sh.o.r.e in a red canoe.

"They're searching for the cave all right!" Brad observed. "If they see us now, it will be a dead give-away."

The Cubs knew that their best bet was to lie low and wait. Accordingly, they flattened themselves on the earth, at intervals raising up briefly to survey the slowly moving canoe.

"They're starting the other way now," Brad observed in relief. "They haven't found the cave entrance yet, and they may miss it."

"Think it's safe to duck in there now?" Dan asked.

"Let's wait a little longer," Brad cautioned. "Until they get around that bend in the river, we'll be exposed, once we come out of hiding."

The Cubs waited, nervously aware of how fast time was pa.s.sing. By now the sun was well up over the treetops, beating down mercilessly upon their backs.

"We won't have too much time, you know," Dan reminded his companions.

"The pow-wow starts at eleven sharp. Mr. Hatfield will be chewing his fingernails if we don't get back in plenty of time."

Brad remained silent, his gaze on the canoe. Now that they were near the mouth of the cave, he wondered if he had been rash to propose entering it without Mr. Hatfield or Mr. Holloway along.

Even in broad daylight the cave looked forbidding, and this time the Cubs were not supplied with flashlights or candles.

"We can give it up and go back," he suggested. "After all, White Nose and Eagle Feather haven't found the entranceway. They may miss it entirely."

"No chance of that, if they come back this way," Dan said significantly.

"The mouth is well guarded by bushes."

"Yeah," Dan agreed, "but look sharp and tell me what you see."

Both Brad and Red peered intently toward the cave entrance. At first they noticed nothing unusual. Then they noted a thin wisp of black smoke issuing from the jagged mouth.

"Someone's got a fire in there!" Red exclaimed.

"And that smoke can be seen out on the river," Brad added in alarm. "This settles it! We'll have to go in there and warn the guy. I've got a hunch Mr. Hatfield wouldn't want us to get mixed up in this business, but what else can we do?"

Neither Red nor Dan were eager to enter the dark cave, yet they agreed with Brad that the occupant should be warned of his danger.

"Let's get on with it," Brad said briskly. "You two can wait here and I'll go in alone."

"Nothing doing," Dan rejected the proposal. "We'll stick with you. Won't we, Red?"

"Sure," the latter agreed, though without enthusiasm. "Lead on!"

By this time the canoe bearing White Nose and Eagle Feather had rounded the river bend and was out of sight.

Rolling up the trouser legs of their Cub uniforms, the boys removed shoes and socks, hiding the latter in the bushes.

Then with Brad leading, the three scrambled over the jagged rocks to the cave entrance. As they stood there a moment, gathering courage, a little puff of black smoke issued forth.

"Someone's in there, all right," Brad muttered. "You fellows follow behind me, and try not to make any noise. We want to find out what we're running into before we reveal ourselves."

The swift-moving underground stream felt icy cold as the boys stepped into it. Red, who never had been inside the cave, felt especially nervous. He kept close to Dan, occasionally b.u.mping into him.

Without a light to guide them, the Cubs could neither see nor be seen.

However, the bright mouth provided dim illumination for a short distance.

After that, they were in complete and rather terrifying darkness.

Brad, who kept ahead of his companions, found the smoke increasingly unpleasant as he moved deeper into the tunnel. He covered his face with a handkerchief to ward off any inclination to cough.

Approaching the inner rock ledge above the stream, Brad signalled his companions to be very cautious.

The smoke had become thick, and ahead he could see the faint glow of a fire. From the odor of the smoke, he knew that game was being cooked.

Fancy was not playing a trick upon him, for as the smoke cleared, he distinctly made out the figure of a man crouched over the fire.

The problem of how to make themselves known to the stranger solved itself most unexpectedly. Red tried to smother a cough and could not do so.

In the silent cave, the sound echoed loudly. Brad, Dan and Red flattened themselves against the rough limestone wall. Too late!

The man crouching over the fire had heard the cough. He started up, staring into the darkness, directly at the three frightened Cubs.

CHAPTER 16 DANGER

Brad did not know whether or not the old Indian actually saw them in the darkness. But he decided to take no chance of being mistaken for an enemy.

"h.e.l.lo," he said, and his voice echoed weirdly in the cavern, "cooking your dinner?"

With a show of friendliness, he stepped out into the glare of the fire.

Dan and Red followed his example, though not without misgiving. Would the old cave dweller accept them as friends? Or would he be hostile? In the darkness they could not see whether or not he wore a knife at his belt.

For a full minute, the old Indian stood tense on the rock floor, staring at the three Cubs. In the glare of the fire they saw that he was gaunt and lean, with a bony, unwrinkled face. Prominent cheek bones pulled the skin tightly.

"Good morning," Brad said, gaining confidence as the Indian made no hostile move. "Cooking a rabbit, I see."

The stranger replied with a deep-throated grunt which the Cubs took for a.s.sent. He did not seem unfriendly, however, only guarded and a trifle dazed.

Oddly enough, the old Indian did not question the boys as to their unexpected presence in the cave. Apparently accepting them as friends, he motioned for them to share the warmth of his fire.

The Cubs squatted around it, watching the old fellow rotate the cooking rabbit on a crudely fas.h.i.+oned spit.

Without saying anything, Dan nudged Red to direct his attention toward the wall behind them. Not far from the pile of balsam boughs lay the Navajo blanket which had disappeared from the Cub camp a few days earlier!

Brad cleared his throat and after telling his name, tried to draw the old Indian into conversation. Aside from learning that the other's name was Miquel and that he was a Navajo of the Beeb.i.t.c.hni clan, he made little headway.

Paying scant heed to the Cubs, old Miquel carried on a sing-sing monologue in a tongue the boys could not understand.