right.”
A long pause. Bill trying to think of something to say. And then:
“Say, Laura, what you going to do Sunday?”
“Nothing. What you going to do?’’
Nothing.” Both titter, and I wonder what there is in that to laugh about? Another long pause, and Bill says:
‘‘You ain’t going to do anything Sunday, Laura?”
‘‘No. Wish’t I was.”
“Wish’t I was, too.” And both laugh again.
“Well, I guess I got to go take care of my horse. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye, Bill.”
And then says some one listening in: “Oh, good-bye. Bill, dear, sweet Bill!”
On the eighth day, Saturday, of my sixteen-hour watches, the Supervisor telephoned me that the I.W.W. firebugs had evidently left the forest, so I could resume my usual hours in the lookout. That meant that I could leave the lookout at four o’clock, sun time, and so have four hours of daylight for exploring my cave find. I called Riverside Station, hoping that some one would be there to take word to my sister that I wanted her to come up, but got no answer. The next morning, however, my mother went to the station and called me, to learn if I was safe and well, and after a lot of persuading, I got her to consent to Hannah spending a few days with me. A little later in the day, Hannah came to the ’phone and asked if I had been down into the cave hole?
“Have n’t been near it since you were here,” I answered.
‘‘Good! Promise that you will keep away from it until I come. You promise. Then I’ll be with you to-morrow afternoon.”
What with the big food chest, the stove, table, stools, and all, there was no space in the little cabin for a second bunk, nor a bed upon the floor, so, after quitting time that evening, I made a sleeping-place for myself out on the south side of the cabin: a pole bunk with a foot of springy spruce boughs in it, and a canvas pack cover for a roof. Hannah could have the cabin all to herself during the nights. With old Double Killer prowling around upon the mountain, and maybe worse than he, I just did n’t want to sleep out there. When bedtime came, and I stepped out for a last look around, the very thought of sleeping outside of my four well-chinked walls made me shiver. That made me plumb mad at myself. Did n’t Uncle John and all our other mountain men often sleep out, with never a thought that harm could come to them? Sure they did, and I would, too. I brought my bedding out and spread it upon my bough mattress, and got under the covers with my rifle at my side. I found then that I had made my canvas roof too low: it prevented me seeing anything more than ten feet off. I got up and raised it, and lay down again. That was better. I could see all of the little clearing in three directions; the cabin, of course, shut off the north side of it. There was now a good moon; it enabled me to see even into some of the shadows cast by the spruces. I sat up, aimed my rifle at a stump sticking up in the east end of the clearing, and could see it quite well through the sights; was sure that I could put a bullet into it. Sleeping out was n’t so bad, after all. I lay back upon my pillow, intending to watch the clearing for a time and learn if any night prowlers were about — and the first thing I knew it was morning! I had slept well; better than in the cabin. I sprang up and began my daily round of tasks, glad that Hannah would soon be with me to explore my cave find.
I had a hurried breakfast, put everything in the cabin in good order, and started up the trail to the lookout. When halfway there, I came upon the tracks of a bear that had passed down the trail during the night. Not old Double Killer, but a bear of good size — a grizzly, as I could tell by the imprint of his long claws in the soft earth. And staring down at them, maybe I shivered a a bit. If he had come nosing around under my bunk what would have happened ? Try as I would to forget it, that unpleasant thought was with me, on and off, all day.
From the lookout I could see no fire anywhere, but shortly after I had made my nine o’clock report, I heard Green’s Teak lookout ’phone the officer about two fires to the west of him, and a half-hour later he reported a third fire, still farther west. Then, still listening in, I heard him and the Supervisor agree that the I.W.W. firebugs were probably the cause of them. My call rang. I was asked to try to find the fires, give a chart reading of them. I replied that I could see no smoke in that direction; that Green’s Peak and the high ridge south of it were the limit of my view of the forest to the west. Listening in again, I heard the Supervisor order out the various patrols to fight the fires, and tell them that he would again get a sheriff’s posse to try to help them locate the fire-setters. All this made me feel very blue. I could not understand why some men were so mean!
When I went down to the cabin, at noon, there was Hannah, and old Mr. Ames, who had brought her up on his way to his summer cattle range down on Blue River. He had lunch with us, and got very angry when I told him about the new forest fires. “I’ll tell you what is what,” he said. ‘‘Our forefathers fought and bled for this great country, and now we are fighting for it again. And sooner or later, we here at home have just got to get together and wipe out the I.W.W., and other Hun helpers!’’
Hannah and I helped him get his pack-horses onto the trail, and he turned back down the mountain, still talking about the firebugs. We then went up to the lookout, taking with us a candle and a rope, and on the way I cut a number of two-foot lengths of stout spruce boughs, and a pole of about six feet. During the afternoon I made a rope ladder of these, first cutting the long rope in its center, and tying the lengths to the pole, about a foot apart. Then came, at last, five o’clock — by sun time four o’clock, and taking a last look over the forest for fires, and glad that we had none to report, we hurried down along the summit to the cave.
I had planned just how we were to get down into the cave hole, and back up. I let the ladder down until it touched the projecting ledge, and had about six feet of it to spare, the end tied to the pole. This I laid upon the slope straight back from the edge, and weighted with slab after slab of rock from the half-circle pile, most of the weight resting upon the end pole. Not even our combined weight, I well knew, could pull the ladder end from under the pile. Hannah went down first, and I was soon beside her upon the rock ledge. Right at our feet, and for the whole length of the ledge, gaped the cleft, running straight down into dense blackness, down, perhaps, into the very heart of the great mountain, and in places covered over with rock slabs that had either fallen from above or—as appeared more likely — been laid upon it by the old-time people with the intent to conceal it. At our right, at the end of the ledge, the hole running on into the mountain was much larger than it had appeared to be from above; large enough to admit us, one at a time, upon hands and knees. Before going to it, we dropped several pieces of good-sized rock into the cleft; each one of them clattered down into the darkness for a considerable time, proving that the cleft was of great depth. Had any one ever gone down there, and lived to get safely back up into the light? We wondered.
I led along the ledge to the cave hole, Hannah closely following, and got down upon hands and knees, lit the candle, and looked in. The passage sloped downward at an angle of about twenty degrees. The floor was strewn with earth and rock bits; the walls were smooth-edged layers of rock of varying thickness up to about eight inches; the roof was uneven.
'‘Can’t you go in?” Hannah asked, behind me.
"Yes, we can crawl into the hole, as far as I can see,” I answered.
"Well, lead on, then! I just can’t wait to see what is down there!” she exclaimed.
We crept down in for about ten feet, and found our way blocked by a large, three-cornered slab of roof rock that, in falling, had wedged between the walls. I took hold of it, shook it,
