When he struck, he landed on an earthen floor that was dry and firm. He had not fallen far, he knew, yet he felt dazed and dizzy; for, in addition to the surprise of it, the fall had been heavy and had jarred him considerably. He no longer heard the yelling Indians. That the girl was not near him he knew. He was alone. The feeling that he had been trapped--had been deliberately led by this girl into a trap--was irresistible. As soon as he could sufficiently get his wits together, he felt for his metallic match safe. Always in this water-proof safe he kept a few matches, that were sure to be dry and reliable. One of these he struck, and by its light he looked about, without rising. Above him were the boards of a floor. About him were the walls of a narrow tunnel. Apparently he had been dropped through a trapdoor from the room above into this tunnel. He recalled that he had thoroughly searched that room and even had sounded the floor, but he had not found that trapdoor. It was as plain now as anything could be that through that trapdoor Nick Nomad had dropped, in the same way as himself, and, of course, had landed in this same tunnel. It seemed probable, too, that the one who had trapped him had trapped old Nomad. He was in a fair way of solving at least one of the mysteries. Before the light of the match went out he saw the direction and trend of the narrow tunnel, and decided to follow it. Manifestly, it would be impossible to regain the room from which he had so violently tumbled. Being anxious, he lost no time in carrying out this resolve. He moved forward along the tunnel, feeling his way with his feet and hands. He had no desire to fall into any hole that might be there. At intervals he lighted one of the matches, to reassure himself. The tunnel was not long, though in the cautious manner in which he passed through it some time was required before he reached its end. When he came to the end he found the little river before him, and about him a thick growth of bushes. The river end of the tunnel opened on the side of the high, rocky bank, and was so bushed about that it could not be seen readily. It seemed to the scout now that John Latimer must be aware of the existence of that tunnel. Latimer had built the house, and had lived in it since its erection. Obviously, he could not have been unaware of the tunnel and the trapdoor; yet Latimer had not spoken of them when the scout was making his futile search for Nomad, nor had he hinted of their existence since. More and more it was apparent that Latimer was not “playing fair;” but even yet there was so much of mystery about the whole matter that Buffalo Bill was too bewildered to reach any clear conclusion. The Indians had gone, and daybreak was at hand by the time Buffalo Bill got out of the tunnel and out of the river gorge, and had made his way back to the vicinity of the house and stables.