We must have been wandering for a week or more, bearing northwards all the while, before we halted for a few days at a village inn: the _Snow Man_ I believe it was called. It seemed to me as though our life of hardships had begun afresh, for as far as possible we kept to woods and byways where there was shelter and hiding. And yet it was on this journey that my father gave me my first lessons with the pistol; and I think he found me an eager pupil. As with the knife, he promised me a pistol of my own when I became expert enough to merit one, and with this bait to lure on my endeavour I practised sedulously with the weapon every morning, for our travelling was done mostly at night. My father soon regained all his buoyancy and cheerfulness, and questioned me eagerly about my discovery of the cave. "What are we to call it?" he cut me short almost at the beginning of my narrative. I had my answer ready, for this matter of naming places had become almost a second nature with me; and I said, "Drift-Wood Cavern," and added, "and the passage you showed me is the Smugglers' Tunnel." "Very well," he agreed. "And now tell me your story, Tommy." I told him with as much coherence as his constant questionings would permit, for he was so eager to learn all about my find that he continually interrupted me with questions of his own, running on ahead of me as it were, and was rather disappointed when my recital came to an abrupt finish. "But surely, Tommy," he said, "you found where it went?" "I don't know any more," I declared. "Why, it might lead anywhere," he insisted with fervour. "It might go for miles. It must be full of secrets, Tommy, and hidden treasures, and.... Why didn't you...." "Well, the runners...." I began in my defence, meaning to say that the less time I spent there the better while the runners were still hunting for Dirk; but he cut in, saying: "Ah, the runners; yes. If it hadn't been for the runners, Tommy, I should have had the secret out of it by now." This surprised me, for as soon as the soldiers had gone my father had packed up his kit and vanished too. So I asked, "Why didn't you stay then, daddy?" He looked at me more sharply than usual, for it wasn't my custom to question him like this; and at the moment his answer seemed a strange one, for after a pause he suddenly exclaimed, "By gad, Tommy, you're quite a little man! Soon be calling me father." "No, daddy, no," I protested, for somehow the colder title didn't seem to suit our relationship. I put up my arms and kissed him to show I wasn't beyond that yet, though I was growing rapidly in these days; and I think the sentimental little scene pleased him. "Well, well!" he said affectionately, patting my cheek.