“Sure,” assented Dick, who had brought his gun--the only one of the campers who had. “We’ll back you up.” “Then you go ahead,” suggested Tom, “as you have the only weapon. I’ll come behind and light matches, so you can see to shoot if there’s anything there.” “Pleasant prospect,” murmured the country lad. Still he did not hang back, but advanced cautiously, Tom following him, with ready matchbox. It was now so dark that the cave looked all the blacker by contrast. Yet no sound came from it, and the boys were practically certain that had it been inhabited, either by human beings or wild beasts, some sign would have been manifested by this time, as they had talked quite loudly. Into the cave went Dick and Tom, followed by the other two, who had caught up clubs of wood. “See anything?” called Jack, as Tom struck the first match. “No, not a thing. Go on in farther, Dick. Ouch!” this last as the match burned down and scorched Tom’s fingers. “Hurry up with that light!” cried Dick as the darkness became more dense than ever. “I am,” said Tom, but it was some seconds before he could strike one. “By Jove! There _is_ something here!” cried Dick. The next moment the report of his gun sounded like a clap of thunder in the cave. CHAPTER XVIII BACK IN CAMP “Did you hit him?” “What was it?” “Say, we’d better get out of this!” Tom, Jack and Bert thus cried in turn. As for Dick he said nothing, and he did nothing, for he could not see to run in the darkness of the cave, and the rush of air, following the shot from his gun, had put out the match Tom was holding up. “Show a light there,” called the marksman. “I think I plugged him all right.” Tom struck another match and held it high above his head. Dick stood his ground, and Bert and Jack, who had started to run, came back to the mouth of the cave. “No, I didn’t get him. I can see his green eyes yet!” shouted Dick. “Here goes for another shot.” “Hold on!” cried Tom. “What’s the matter?” asked Dick. “Don’t you want me to hit the beast?” “I would if there was one there,” spoke Tom, quietly, “but there’s no use wasting powder and lead on a stone wall.” “A stone wall?” gasped Dick. “Yes, that’s what you shot at. Look,” and Tom, advancing into the cave, held up a piece of wood he had lighted as a sort of torch, against the rocky wall of the cave. “That was what you thought were the glittering eyes of some animal,” he went on, and he pointed to two shining particles of mica in the rock. They were about the distance apart of an animal’s eyes, and when the match was reflected from them Dick mistook them for the orbs of a bear or some other beast. He had fired on the instant. “Well, I’ll be jiggered!” gasped the marksman. “You’d have plugged him if it _had_ been anything,” said Tom, as he held the little torch still closer to the rocky wall. Then they could all see where the shot from Dick’s gun had flattened out between the glittering bits of mica.