The boy was quite ready to accept any suggestion from Ernest. So he took his hand and they went from the main room farther into the cavern. Ernest found that only the portion near the entrance had been furnished. Beyond, there was a large amount of empty space. Here and there a small light revealed trunks and boxes, arranged without regard to regularity. These, Ernest conjectured, contained stolen articles which had accumulated during the years in which the dreaded outlaws had been a power and a menace in the neighborhood. It occurred to him that he would like to open some of these boxes, but the companionship of the boy prevented. He ventured to ask, however, "What is in those boxes, Frank?" "I don't know. Something of papa's and Uncle John's." As they kept on they reached parts of the cavern which were quite empty. The Fox brothers were in the position of householders who occupied a house too large for their needs. By and by the lamps ceased, and the portion farther on looked dark and gloomy. "I am afraid to go any farther, Ernest," said the boy. "Why, Frank? What are you afraid of?" "There may be wild animals there." "But how could they live there?" "I don't know, but papa told me there were some." Ernest understood why the boy had been told this. It was to prevent his going too far. But it made Ernest all the more eager to continue his explorations. "Even if there were any wild animals I would protect you, Frank. I would not let them hurt you." "But we may not find our way back. It is so dark," said the child with a shudder. "I won't go farther. But, see, it seems to be lighter." It was at a point fifty feet farther on. Through a rift in the roof a gleam of light entered the cavern. Ernest was anxious to trace this, for, as he judged, it came from some outlet, through which he might possibly obtain deliverance. "Stay where you are," he said. "I will just go forward, and see what I can." "Don't stay long," entreated Frank, nervously. "No, I won't." Ernest was just as well pleased to go forward alone, for if there was really, as he supposed, an outlet, it was as well that Frank should not have his attention drawn to it lest he should speak of it to his father, and so reveal the fact of their explorations. This might excite the suspicion of James Fox and put a stop to their further walks. Continuing on alone, Ernest then saw, perhaps fifteen feet above him, an opening some three feet in diameter, through which he could obtain a glimpse of the clear sky far above. It made his heart beat with exultation and longing. There was freedom, if he could only manage somehow to lift himself up to the outlet and make his way through it. "What is it, Ernest?" asked Frank. "Come back. I am afraid." "Oh, it is nothing," answered Ernest, with studied indifference. "It isn't anything you would care to see." The little boy accepted this assurance, for he did not feel the interest that excited Ernest.