"Sachem has won the confidence of the general by his continued sobriety and usefulness," explained Phil, "and has been sent off on a mission where fleet-footedness means something. I think he will be back by nightfall, but this affair of ours is important, and can't wait." There was a brisk march to Berkston. Only a few half-burned buildings of the little town were visible. The place was lonely and deserted. The hills lay to the east of the village, and the boys threaded many a valley and ravine, searching for the place of the rendezvous of the marauders. Just toward the end of the afternoon, as they passed down a rock-protected glade, Phil made out a human form. It appeared and then disappeared where the valley turned. "Did you see him?" inquired the Boston boy of Andy, who had been keeping a close lookout by his side. "I fancied that I saw something or somebody," responded Andy, "but it was only a momentary flash. Human or animal, I couldn't make it out." "It looked like an Indian to me," declared Phil. "I've got the spot well in mind. We'll hurry on; leave the men in ambush, and you and I will do a little investigating." "All right," acceded Andy, and this was done. When they came to the spot where Phil had seen the supposed Indian disappear, the company was ordered to cover, while their leaders proceeded cautiously around the turn in the valley. "We've struck it," said Phil, after they had proceeded several yards. "Yes," nodded Andy convincedly, "for here are a lot of well-trodden paths, diverging over the hills both ways from this spot. See, Phil--here's a regular route. Here they end." "A cave," said Phil. They had met many of these formations in traversing the valley. The one that now showed its verdure-covered entrance plainly, seemed to be of considerable magnitude. Phil and Andy entered the place, looking curiously around them. There was an outer cave, and this narrowed so as to be a kind of a doorway to a vast inner cavern. The roof of this had some breaks, letting in the daylight, and, although the place was dim and gloomy, the intruders could make out their surroundings. "I say!" exclaimed Andy, in petrified wonder, staring about the queer place. Phil was equally spellbound. The cave was simply a great storehouse. Scattered about were heaps of plunder of every description. Here was a heap of smoked bacon and ham, there were kegs and barrels, probably containing molasses, sugar, cider and vinegar. There were sacks of grain, flour and vegetables, sugar, salt, dried beans, peas and fruits. Boxes of candles, clothing, bed linen, heaps of firearms and garden tools--the mixed mass of booty resembled the despoilment of half-a-dozen towns. "Phil," exclaimed Andy breathlessly, "Old Silas was no dreamer. Oh, what a find!"