“Here are rifles and ammunition,” he said, handing each of them a weapon, “and here is my hunting-knife. Now wait here a moment.”
He opened the walls and passed into Dungarvon’s room, and returned in a moment with a bottle of brandy.
“Here, boys, take this. It will strengthen you,” he said. “At the door or mouth of the cavern is a sentinel. Should he demand a password, say to him, ‘Golden.’ Should he recognize you in the dark, knock him down and fly. One word more. Barker, do you know where the Devil’s Tarn is?”
“Meet me there to-morrow evening. Don’t fail. Go.”
The prisoners moved along the dark passage, wondering who their strange deliverer could be. At the mouth of the cavern they found the wary sentinel _sound asleep_, and passing him, they plunged out into the _free air of heaven_.
Strange waited until they had had time to make their escape, then he turned and moved back to the door of the Dead Fall. He saw that it was fastened, then he placed his finger into the niche and tore out the spring that unlocked it. His work for the night was accomplished. The door to the Dead Fall could never be opened until it was battered down with sledges, and, consequently, the robbers would never know but that the prisoners were still in there.
Softly Solomon Strange stole back into the robber-captain’s room, and having put out the lantern, he stretched himself upon the carpeted floor and soon fell asleep.
When he awoke it was daylight, though no ray of sunshine ever shone in the cavern. Lamps furnished the only light there. Dungarvon had slept off the effect of his night’s carouse, and when his guest awoke he found him seated by the table reading a paper that one of his spies had brought in from Cheyenne City during the night.
Breakfast was brought in to the captain and his guest, the other robbers dining in the Cloister of the Ghouls.
After their morning repast was over, the false Black Bear took his departure for the Indian encampment, having expressed a hope that when he came back to the ranch he would have Silvia Sanford to hand over to the robber-captain.
Briskly through the forest and over the stony hills went the mysterious Solomon Strange.
Keeping to the right of the Indian encampment he struck the little glade wherein, but two nights ago, he had slain the renegade chief, Blufe Brandon, and entered a small cavern near at hand.