There was something alive in the cave, and Jack did not wait to see what it was. With two or three long jumps he passed out of the entrance and stood again among the underbrush, through which the bright sun was sending down its long sheaves of light. Nothing more happened, and as he looked back into the cave it was all quiet there. He was breathing fast, startled and excited, yet not exactly frightened, and when he reached the open air and had recovered from his start, he felt curious to know what had made the strange noise and what had hit him. It did not seem that it could be anything very terrible, for if it had been, it would have struck him harder and made more noise. He looked back into the cave, but the darkness gave no answer to the question in his mind. He could see two or three tiny sparks faintly glowing, which went out one by one as he watched them. This was the remains of his torch. He wondered what that dim pale shape could be, that he had seen for an instant, but too indistinctly to tell what it was. Though he was anxious to know more about the cave, he did not feel like venturing into it again without a light, and he determined to go home and tell his uncle, and, in a day or two to return, better prepared for the investigation.

His mind was so full of what he had seen that he started down the hill toward his horse, altogether forgetting his gun, and when he remembered it, he had a long climb back to recover it.

It was the middle of the afternoon before he reached the house, and there was no one about to whom he could talk of his adventure except Mrs. Carter. To her he told his story, but she could throw no light on the matter, nor, indeed, could his uncle when he consulted him at supper.

"Why, Jack," said he; "that is very interesting, and you were lucky to find such a place. It was pretty keen of you too, to think of making the torch as you did. I fancy it would have served you better though, if you had put some wads of grass with your pine needles. It would have burned more slowly and steadily, and would have given you a pretty fair light. I do not wonder that you wanted to get out of the cave when you heard that noise and were hit. Were you much scared?"

"Yes, I guess I was, Uncle Will. My heart was beating hard when I got out, but the light seemed to cool me down right off. That's queer, isn't it?"

"Oh, I don't know," said his uncle; "it seems to me very natural. Wait till Hugh gets back, Jack, and then we three will go up on the hill, with plenty of lights, and will see what there is in the cave, and where it goes to." With this, Jack was forced to be content.

During the next two days Jack thought a great deal about the cave, and on the evening of the second day, when Hugh returned from town, Jack met him at the barn, and while he was unsaddling, poured into his ear the tale of his discovery.

Hugh seemed much impressed, but ventured no opinion, though he asked a number of questions. "What did the thing feel like that hit you on the head, son?" said he.

"Why, it was something soft, and not very big. It just hit my hat a light blow, not much more than enough to dent it in, I should think, but there was the queerest noise at the same time that I ever heard. I don't know how to describe it. It was like something moving quickly through the air. Just the faintest sound you can think of, but it seemed close to my ear."

"Well," said Hugh, "I reckon you're a great hand to have things happen to you. Now ain't it a queer thing that you should just about roll into this place, and me live about here all these years and never know that it was there. You done well to make the light you did, and to go in like you did. It kind o' makes a man go slow to see everything black ahead of him. We'll know to-morrow what there is there, unless your uncle wants me to do something else."

"No," said Jack, "I'm sure he don't, for he said that we'd all three go up there together and find out what there is in the cave."

"All right," said Hugh, "that will suit me first class. I expect when we get there maybe we won't find anything very strange, and then again, maybe we will. Caves ain't very common in this country, but I've seen a good many of 'em; some of 'em where the Indians have been in, and drawed all kinds of pictures on the walls. And then away south-west of here, up in the mountains, there's lots of caves that the Indians used to live in. Some of 'em are away high up on the cliffs, right hard places to get to, but those Indians lived there, and you can see their bed places, and where they have had their fires, and sometimes you'll find the pots that they used to cook in, and everywhere, all about, there's lots of pieces of broken pots. But all that was a long time ago. I expect the Indians that lived down on the prairie, at the foot of these cliffs, were likely hostile, and the fellows that had their houses up in the caves lived there so's to get away from them that was down on the plains. I reckon you've heard tell of the Pueblo people that live down there yet. They live in regular houses, built of 'dobes. Some of them houses are like three or four built on top of each other, and they haven't got a door nor a window on the outside. They climb up into 'em by ladders, that they haul up after 'em, and then they're just like they was in a fort. I expect they got to building them houses because people were hazing them, and they had to have protection, nights."

After breakfast next morning the three started for the cave, carrying two lanterns and some candles. When they came to the place where Jack had seen the badger and the coyote, he told Hugh about it, and asked him what sort of a game these two animals were playing. Mr. Sturgis laughed when the question was asked, and Hugh smiled, too. "Son," he said, "your uncle, here, asked me that same question about six years ago, when he first saw a badger and a coyote acting that way. I have seen it a heap of times, and I'll tell you what I believe it means. You know, in these days, since there ain't no buffalo, any more, the coyotes are pretty nearly always hungry. I believe that a coyote sometimes, when he finds a badger out on the prairie, just keeps a-bothering him and a-bothering him until he gets the badger right mad, and gets him so he wants to fight. You know, a badger ain't a very good-tempered animal, nohow. Well, after the coyote has pestered him a while, the badger gets so cross that he just wants to get hold of that coyote, and the coyote keeps pretty close to him, and the badger keeps following him, and so the coyote leads him along, until presently maybe he runs across two or three other coyotes, and then they all pitch into the badger and kill him, and eat him."

"That seems mighty queer, Hugh," said Jack. "I didn't suppose a coyote knew enough to make a plan like that."

"Well, of course," said Hugh, "I don't know that it is so; no coyote ever told me that it was, but I've seen them acting that way often, and I can't think of no other meaning to it except that. But a coyote is smart enough to do that, or most anything else. It may be that the coyote just enjoys teasing the badger, and making him fighting mad, but if that was so, I wouldn't look to see the thing happen as often as it does. A coyote's got a heap of meanness in him, though; I've seen a couple of 'em spend an hour or two just bothering a big wolf, and I'm certain they did that just for the fun of it. The wolf was crossing a big sheet of ice, where a creek had overflowed, and it was pretty slippery, and he could not handle himself very well, nor turn quick. One of the coyotes would run pretty close in front of him, and the wolf would make a grab at him, and while he was doing that, the other coyote would run up behind him and nip him. Why, them two little rascals had a heap of fun with that big wolf before he got off the ice and on to the bare ground, where he had a good footing."

Before long they reached the place where Jack told them they must leave their horses, and then they started up the hill. Hugh said, "We'd better all take our ropes with us; we don't know but what we might need 'em when we get up there." They clambered up the steep ascent, Jack in advance, and feeling quite important at the thought that he was now acting as guide for Hugh and his uncle. Once, when they stopped to rest, he pointed out where the hawk's nest was, and showed them where he had rolled down the hill and into the bushes.

"It's a wonder you didn't break your neck," said his uncle.

"Well," said Hugh, "it would be a wonder if we didn't know that boys are all the time getting into scrapes, where a grown man would be killed, and the boys come out of it without even getting scratched up." As he said this he looked hard at Jack, who thought he must be referring to his scrape with the mountain lion.

It was not long before they were all standing in the brush, at the entrance to the cave.

"Well," said Mr. Sturgis, as he peered into the opening, "it's black enough in there, certainly."

"Dark as a wolf's mouth," said Hugh.

They lighted the two lanterns, and giving Jack a candle, they prepared to go in.

"Do you want to lead the way, Jack?" said his uncle, "or shall one of us go first?"

"No," said Jack, "I'd like to be first to go in. You know, I feel as if this cave belonged to me."

"That's right, son," said Hugh; "you're the leader of this party. Go right in, and we'll follow you. Only I don't want you to go too fast, or too far ahead. I've seen these caves sometimes where there's a big drop off in the bottom, and I'd hate almightily to be following you and see you fall off into a big hole. You go ahead, but go mighty slow, and we'll be right close behind you. You two might leave your guns out here, I don't reckon there's nothing to hurt anybody inside. I don't see no signs where anybody has been in this cave this season, except where son walked the other day."

Mr. Sturgis and Jack left their guns here, but Hugh retained his. Then the three went into the cave, Jack a little in advance. They had made only two or three steps into it when Jack again heard the queer whirring noise, and saw Hugh suddenly strike at something with his hand, and then heard a faint, squeaking cry, and a sound as of something soft striking the ground.

"There's what hit you," said Hugh.

"Oh, what is it?" said Jack.

"Bats," said Hugh. "I suspicioned it was them, from what you said, but I wan't certain. They can't do no harm, but look here!" and Hugh stooped and picked up two or three feathers, and one of the slender sticks that Jack had noticed the day before, and said: "This has been a sacred place for the Indians. See these presents? These are eagle feathers, and here are a lot of arrows that have been given, maybe, to the Sun."

"But those look pretty old, Hugh," said Mr. Sturgis.

"Yes," was the reply, "these were left here a long time ago. Don't ye see they've got stone points? This here arrow looks like a Cheyenne arrow, but it's old."

"There, Uncle Will!" said Jack, interrupting, "There's that white thing. Let's see what that is."

They moved forward a little, very slowly, and in a moment saw that the cave was a small one, not more than forty feet long. On a bed of stones, raised above the floor lay a whitish bundle, about three feet long and two wide, tied up with leather thongs.

"Ha!" said Hugh.

"What is it, Hugh?" said Jack.

"Why don't you see?" said Hugh. "This here cave is a grave and that's the body of a person that was buried here."

"It must have been a little bit of a child, then," said Jack.

"Not so," Hugh answered, "that's a grown person, either a man or a woman. That's the way they tie 'em up in bundles when they bury 'em. I expect that Indian was put here a long time ago." Hugh put down his lantern, bent forward and took hold of the bundle by either end, and lifted it from the ground. It seemed to weigh very little, and as he replaced it on its bed of stones, he repeated, "A long time ago. Why, that bundle don't weigh nothing. There can't be nothing in it except just the very driest kind of bones, and that hide that it's wrapped in is just like paper; when I lifted it, my fingers went right through it."

Jack stared at the bundle, wondering how long it had been here, who it had been, and thinking of the life that it had led so long ago. Meantime, the other two had turned aside and were looking about the cave, which was only ten or twelve feet wide. Hugh picked up an earthenware pot, which stood at one end of the bed of stones, and calling Jack, showed it to him. By the light of the lantern it seemed to be dark red and grey, and it had once held something, as its sides and bottom, within, were dark with crusted dust. "I expect when they buried this fellow," said Hugh, "they left some grub for him to eat, in this pot." Near the pot, but resting on the floor of the cave, was a small sack made of what seemed like leather. This, when Jack felt of it, seemed heavy. The covering was hard and dry.

On the walls at either side of the cave were scratched in the rock, rude figures of men, a great circle with lines starting out from it, which Hugh said meant the Sun, and a rude figure of a bird with a great hooked beak—the Thunder Bird.

After they had satisfied their curiosity, Mr. Sturgis and Hugh turned to go, but Jack lingered behind. "Oh, Hugh," he called, "can't we take this bundle with us? I'm sure it would be a greater curiosity, back east, than the mummies from Egypt that I have seen in the museum there."

"Well now, son," said Hugh, "I don't reckon I'd bother that fellow, if I was you. Fetch the pot and that little sack along with you, if you want 'em, and then come out here in the sunshine, and we'll talk about it." They sat down by the mouth of the cave, and Hugh and Mr. Sturgis filled their pipes.

"Now, look here, son," said Hugh, "how would you like it if some day some fellow was to come along to the place where your great-great-grandfather had been buried, and should talk about carrying off his bones for a curiosity?"

"Well," said Jack, "I don't suppose I'd like it very much."

"I don't expect you would," said Hugh, "and the Indians feel the same way about their dead grandfathers that you might feel about yours. You don't want that bundle in there for anything except because it's a curiosity, and if I was you, I wouldn't bother it. It can't do no one any harm for you to take these other things; they're real curiosities, because they're the old-time things the Indians used to make and use; but I wouldn't bother them bones. Let's see what you've got."

They opened the sack carefully, but the covering of hide tore to pieces as they tried to unwrap it. Hugh spread out his coat, so that nothing might be lost and all bent eagerly forward to see what the relics might be. The largest thing was a great pipe made of black carved stone; then there were eight arrow heads of black, white and brown flint, finely worked, and one smaller piece of flint, shaped a little like an arrow head, but which Hugh said was used in painting skins.

When they were all unwrapped, Hugh said: "There, son, you've sure got some real old relics, now. I don't know as I ever see a nicer lot of arrow points, and I'm sure I never see a pipe like that. Them things is mighty old. I wouldn't be a mite surprised if that fellow died before America was discovered."

Jack was delighted with the find. He still felt that he would like to have the bundle, and, above all, would like to know what there was inside of it, but he made up his mind that it was better to do as Hugh had said. After they had reached their horses, he wrapped the pot carefully up in his coat and tied it to the horn of his saddle, and all the way home he rode with his hand on it, so that it should not be jarred and broken.

When they reached home he spread his trophies out on the kitchen table to show to Mrs. Carter, and said to her, "Won't these make a great show in my room in New York?"

At last the time approached when Mr. Sturgis and Jack were to leave the ranch and take their departure for the distant east. The weather had long been growing cooler, and was now cold. The leaves of the aspens had turned yellow, and one by one had loosed their holds upon the trees, and twirled slowly toward the ground. The bull elk had ceased whistling. The deer had taken on their winter coats. The lake was frozen, and the migrating ducks and geese had gone. Snow storms were more frequent, and often the ground was white for days at a time, until some interval of mild weather melted the snow again.

One day, some weeks after the Powells' last visit, Charley had driven over in the waggon and brought Jack a wolf puppy, now large and well grown. It was a great grey animal, heavily coated, sleek, smooth, and in good condition, with a long, pointed head, which looked a little like that of a collie dog. Though perfectly tame with Charley, the wolf was shy of strangers, and at first, when approached by Jack or any of the men at the ranch, seemed timid, and shrank for protection behind young Powell. Charley had foreseen this, and had arranged to spend two or three days at the ranch, in order that the wolf might learn to know his master.

"If I leave him here strange to you, you see," he said, "he'll either leave you when I go away, and come back to the ranch, or else he'll run away and become wild, and I don't want to turn no wolves loose on this range. I tried what Hugh told me to with the pups, and now they're all tame as the dogs."

While Charley stayed, Jack devoted his whole time to making friends with the wolf, and everybody at the ranch was as kind to it as possible. After a day or two Hugh and Jack succeeded in overcoming the wolf's suspicions, and had no difficulty in calling it to them and in putting their hands on it. It did not like to be held, and, at first, if firmly grasped, would struggle and snap, in its effort to escape, but the biting seemed to be more a threat than an effort to really bite, and it soon learned that no harm was intended to it. After the wolf had come to be no longer afraid of Jack, Charley neglected it, paying it no attention, while Jack fed it, petted it, and played with it. He was surprised to find how much like a young dog it was, how readily it responded to his advances, and how precisely it resembled a dog in the way it showed pleasure, fear, or suspicion. Hugh made for the wolf a collar of raw-hide, to which, at first, it objected, trying hard to rub it off against the ground, and to push it from its neck with its paws, but after a little it became accustomed to this. Two or three times Jack and Charley ventured to ride out over the prairie with the wolf following them. Their rides, though short, were often fast, yet the wolf never seemed to have any trouble in keeping up with the horses, and sometimes when they were galloping quite fast it would trot along by the side of one of them without seeming at all hurried. From this, Jack called him Swiftfoot.

When it came time for Charley to go, he and Jack parted with not a little sadness on both sides. They had grown fond of each other during the summer, and both regretted Jack's coming absence. Charley looked back a good many times before the waggon disappeared over the hill, and Jack, who stood at the ranch door, holding Swiftfoot by his collar, did not turn away until his friend had quite disappeared from view. The wolf, too, seemed uneasy at the parting, and puzzled as well. He looked at the waggon, and then at Jack, and wagged his tail, and once or twice struggled to get away, as if he wished to follow Charley, but he soon forgot his doubts, and later in the day took great delight in a game of ball with Jack out on the flat.

A few days later, Mr. Sturgis and Jack left the ranch for the railroad. Again Hugh drove them in, and with the same team of horses that had taken them out six months before. Swiftfoot was placed in a wooden cage, immediately behind the seat of the waggon, where he would be close to Jack, who petted and talked to him until he had become a little used to his strange surroundings and to the motion of the waggon.

When the railroad station was reached, quite a crowd gathered on the platform to inspect Swiftfoot, but before long the train pulled in, and the crate holding the wolf was put in the baggage car. The train had scarcely started before Jack, who was anxious about his pet, proposed to his uncle that they should go forward and see how the wolf was getting along, and they did so. The baggage master seemed very glad to see them. He said to Mr. Sturgis, as soon as he entered the car: "See here, partner, I don't like that crate you put aboard here. 'Pears to me it's mighty flimsy, and if that animal in there takes a notion to break out, he might eat me up. I'm afraid of him."

"Oh," said Mr. Sturgis, "he can't get out, and if he could, he wouldn't hurt you. Look over there," and he pointed to Jack, who was sitting on the crate, talking to Swiftfoot, who had his nose through the bars, licking Jack's hand, and was beating a rapid tattoo on the sides of the crate with his wagging tail.

"Oh, Uncle Will!" called Jack, "can't I let him out? He's awful frightened in here, and I think if he had a chance to run up and down the car a few times, and to make friends with the baggage master, he wouldn't mind it so much."

"Hold on! hold on, young fellow!" said the baggage-master, "I don't want to make friends with him. You keep him behind them bars, and we'll be just as good friends as I want to be."

"Oh, I wish you'd let me take him out, just so that he can smell around. I'll put a rope on him, and won't let him get away. Come up here and pat him, and see how friendly he is. He was awful scared, though, when I first came in. He was all crouched up in one corner of the box, and his eyes were shining fearfully. He looked savage."

"Why," said the baggage master, who seemed to be recovering his nerves, "he does seem gentle, don't he?"

"Yes," said Mr. Sturgis, "he's perfectly tame. We've had him around the ranch there for a long time, but I presume he's frightened at all the noise and the motion. I really think if you would let the boy take him out and show him the inside of the car, and would try to make friends with him yourself, you'd get to like him. I'll make it worth your while if you do."

The man went up to the cage, and, after a little persuasion by Jack, patted the head of the wolf, which seemed grateful for attention and sympathy from anyone. Then he consented that the crate should be opened and the wolf led about the car by Jack, but while this was being done, he took his seat on top of a tall pile of trunks which reached nearly to the roof. Before long, however, he came down from there and was petting the wolf, seeming almost as much interested in him as his owner, and when at length Jack put Swiftfoot again in his crate, the wolf, although howling after him, no longer seemed terrified, as at first.

Jack made frequent visits to the baggage car, and at each change of baggage masters, the operation of introducing the new one to the wolf was repeated. So the journey was made between the West and New York, but before they reached that city Mr. Sturgis told Jack that Swiftfoot was by long odds the most expensive piece of baggage that he had ever carried with him on the road.

In the big depot in New York, where the train come hurrying in, and from which they hurry out, where there are always crowds of people going, and other crowds coming, and others, still, waiting for the arrival of friends, Mr. and Mrs. Danvers stood watching the passengers that were walking out from the nine-forty express.

"They ought to have come before this, John," said Mrs. Danvers. "Do you think they could have missed the train?"

"Wait a little;" said her husband; "there come some more people."

Far down the platform they could see a tall man hurrying along, and by his side a well grown boy, leading an enormous grey dog.

"That looks like Will, but it can't be he, for that isn't Johnny with him," said Mrs. Danvers.

"No," said her husband, "that isn't our boy."

They continued to watch the distant people as they approached, but Mrs. Danvers did not see her boy. Suddenly, she was half crushed by a vigorous embrace, and turning, saw beside her, her son, but a very different son from him who had left her in the spring. Then, he had been a little fellow; now, he seemed to her a young man. Then, he was white, slender and listless; now, he was brown, broad-shouldered and boisterous. By his side stood a great grey dog, with lowered head and tail, looking up with suspicious eyes at the hurrying crowds about him.

"Why, Johnny, Johnny," said his mother, "can this be you? It isn't; I am sure it isn't. Will Sturgis, what have you done? I want my boy again. You have brought me a big bear."

Jack's father was hardly less astonished and delighted, but he showed less excitement.

"Yes," said Mr. Sturgis to his sister, "I have brought you back a very different boy from the one I took away. I think after you have had a chance to see him, and to talk with him, you will find that he is a better boy all around. In fact, I think I can say that when Jack left here six months ago he stopped being a boy and began to be a man."

"What is that enormous creature you have there, Johnny?"

"Why, mother, that's Swiftfoot, my tame wolf. He's as gentle as can be, and I expect you'll find him a real good house dog."

"Come along," said Mr. Danvers; "let us walk home. The night is fine, and I hardly thought it worth while to have the carriage here. Bring your checks along and we'll send up for the baggage right away."

Jack and his mother found the walk home a very short one. Mrs. Danvers took her son's arm and leaned on it, while Jack carried his rifle and led Swiftfoot with the other hand. He was happy to see his mother again, and proud to be leading his wolf through New York streets. He thought what fun it would be to show Swiftfoot to his old schoolmates here, none of whom had ever seen a wolf, and of how much he would have to tell them of the western life, about which they knew nothing.

When they reached the house, Aunt Hannah was lying in wait to bid her boy welcome. She had nursed him from his tiniest babyhood, and he was not surprised to have her throw her arms around him and kiss him, while tears of gladness ran down her cheeks. After a moment of congratulation from her, he dragged Swiftfoot forward, and said, "Here Hannah, is a new friend that I want you to like. It's Swiftfoot, my tame wolf."

"A wolf!" shrieked Hannah. "Oh, lordy!" And she flew through the dining-room and slammed the pantry door behind her.