Pressley pointed to the east, where a sort of inner glow seemed to illuminate the haze and make it thinner and more penetrable. They shouldered their packs and again Pink led the way. He advanced, now, with a certain care. From the tree he counted a hundred paces to the right, and called Bud's attention to the number. "That brings ye to this hickory--see?--with a rock under hit. Now, then, straight up from this is the place we's after, twenty-five steps, about; but hit's hard to tell, hit's so steep." He deposited his load upon a flat platform of rock, above which, at a height of a dozen feet, the bank overhung. Under the bank was a hole, not clear enough to be called a cave, nor of any great size. Bud sank down, gratefully, beside his leader, and scrutinized the place. "Not overly large," he commented, "but Ah 'low hit 'll be right smart bigger when hit's cleaned out." "Hit is," returned Pressley, laconically. He spoke with so much decision that Bud looked at him sharply. "You-all ain' ever----?" He hesitated. "Used hit before? Not much! Ah ain' a plumb fool! But they's nothing like comin' from a fam'ly that's observin' an' contrivin'." A smile of self-appreciation swept over his face. "Ah've knowed about this place ever since Ah was fryin' size. In fact, mah father--well, never min' him. Only you'll fin' they's plenty o' room inside to stow away that rubbish an' all our little do-es beside." "Whereaway's the water?" "They's a spring over yonder a little bit." Bud stared at the hole sullenly, and slowly scratched his head. Pressley, unlashing a mattock and shovel from his pack, did not notice him. "Ah swear, Pink," broke out Yarebrough, in puzzled indecision, "Ah swear Ah donno's Ah like this business." Pressley sneered. "Don' talk so loud. Yo' rather late findin' hit out." "No, Ah ain'. Ah ain' never been sho'." "Sho' 'bout what?" "Oh, Ah donno. Kin' o' hard to say. You-all don' think we'll get caught?" "Not 'f you keep that big mouth o' yo's shut." "Mr. Baron did." "Mr. Baron's a fool. He trusted a stranger." "Hit'll kin'er make ye uneasy 'bout talkin' to fellers on the road, won' hit?" said Bud, who was the most sociable man in the settlement. "Hit'll sharpen yo' judg-_ment_. The way you-all go on now you ain' fur off Mr. Baron fo' never suspectin' nobody." It was this very quality in Bud that was playing into Pink's hands. Yarebrough, however, felt properly rebuked. "Ah ain' had yo' experience, ye know. Ah never see but one marshal to know him." "When ye do see one, an' yo' sho', never forget him. Hit's the only way. Here, take this mattock 'n pull those small rocks out, 'n pile 'em on this crocus-sack so's they won' make any trash on this-yer platform." Bud did as he was bid, and the men worked quietly and steadily for ten minutes. "Here she is," Pink whispered, at last, and peered excitedly into the cavern. It was, as he had said, not very large, but large enough.