Holmes’ jaw fell. But he quickly became composed. “But you won’t do that,” he said. “I know you, Cody, and I know that you will not take the trail for Taos until you’ve made an effort to find the girl.” Buffalo Bill frowned. He had learned what he desired, and the knowledge was not such as to give him any pleasure. Holmes was banking on something in or about the cave. What that something was the king of scouts had not the remotest idea. He had strong reason to believe that it was a trap, and that Bart Angell had fallen into it. If he went on, was able, either through the assistance of his prisoners or by his own ingenuity, to find the cave, he might fall a victim to the wiles of the enemy. Three Indians had gone from the cabin to Crow-killer at the cave. One had been left behind, presumably to guard the fair prisoner and also take care of the trap which must have received the stalwart and fearless Angell. And yet, in spite of the probable danger, of the nature of which he could not guess, he resolved to go on. “I’ve got to,” he muttered under his breath. “I can’t leave the girl in the power of that Navaho, and I can’t quit this section without ascertaining what has become of Bart Angell.” On the bank of the ravine the prisoners halted without an order. Their eyes were directed toward a platform of rock about halfway up the opposite bank. Buffalo Bill, following the look, saw the head of an Indian appear above some depression just beyond the far side of the platform. Before he could raise his rifle the head disappeared. “Your cave is over there,” the scout said to Rixton Holmes. The villain nodded. There was an inscrutable expression on his face. There was a safe trail to the bottom of the ravine. The prisoners and their custodian went down the trail, the king of scouts keeping a sharp eye meanwhile on the platform above. But the head did not again appear. “I wouldn’t try to go down to the cave if I were you,” said Holmes, with affected earnestness. “Perhaps you would like to become my substitute,” returned the scout dryly. “I wouldn’t mind,” was the cool response. Buffalo Bill resolved to make a careful examination of the surroundings before attempting to get into the cave. The trap, if there was one, must be outside the big hole. The three prisoners were ankle-bound and gagged, and left lying in the bed of the ravine. Then the king of scouts, with an odd feeling in his breast, began the ascent of the bank. He reached the platform, but without stepping upon it, stood up and looked at the point whence the Indian’s head had appeared. There was no hole there. A large, flat stone occupied the spot. The platform was carefully inspected. There was no break in the surface. The ground about was next given the benefit of searching scrutiny. Nothing unusual was presented to the sight. “Humph!” grunted the baffled scout. “I wonder where the monkey business is hidden.”