His absence from the platform that concealed the shaft of the cave did not surprise the leader of the savages. The red man supposed that the white friend of Raven Feather had gone underground to announce the coming of the reënforcements. Myra Wilton had been too terrified to move from her position. She was trembling violently when the savages crowded about the platform. No move was made to seize or harm her. Soon the fact that she was for the moment safe drove some of the fear from her face. Looking steadily at the handsome young brave who commanded the band, she pointed down the hill in the direction taken by the fleeing villain. The Navaho was at first in doubt as what her action meant. But when it was repeated, with expressive addition, he nodded, and at once gave orders which sent two of the braves after Holmes. After the braves had gone, the Indian leader tried the platform, and discovered that it was fastened. A frown came into his face. He looked at the girl, and said in Navaho: “Where is the great chief, Raven Feather?” Myra pointed downward. The young brave regarded her steadily for a moment, and then went to one side of the platform, felt under the rock, and found a concealed lever. Giving it a pull, the lock was released. Now, standing on the ground beside the platform, the Indian, by signs, directed the girl to stand on the trap. Her face paled, but she did not hesitate. Refusal would have availed her nothing. Before her was a score of savages, each armed to the teeth. She stepped forward, and the Indian came to her side. Down went the trap, and they descended, to find that the grotto was tenantless. Light for the apartment was furnished by a sputtering torch stuck in a crevice of the wall. The Indian stepped from the platform and listened intently. No sound broke the stillness. He moved toward the corridor, his right hand grasping the wrists of the girl. His mystification was great, but not so great as that of Myra Wilton. How had the struggle in the cave terminated, and what had become of the combatants? A partial answer was afforded when the Indian and the girl entered the inner chamber of the cave. On the rocky floor lay Raven Feather and Crow-killer. Each was bound and gagged, and each bore the marks of terrible punishment. “Ugh!” grunted the young Navaho. Then he looked at the girl. “What for?” he said in English. Myra’s eyes were on a large hole high up in one corner. When she was a prisoner in the chamber there had been no such hole. Where the hole was there had been a crevice, which had admitted light. Facing the Navaho, she replied quietly: “For me.” The savage, whose knowledge of English was limited, understood her, but he was unable to say in response what he desired to say. He hesitated a moment, and then drew some leather cords from his breast and proceeded to tie her hands.