He felt that he had acted foolishly, and his reluctance to tell his story to his young friends, therefore, was only natural.
But once more the cowman was on his way to the mysterious cavern, drawn by the hope, rather than the belief, that it was there he would find Fred Greenwood a prisoner and awaiting the completion of the bargain for his release by his abductors.
Determined to make no mistake, he halted under the projecting ledge and spent several minutes in peering around in the gloom.

It looked as if he was right; but the darkness was too profound for him to make sure, and even the scrutiny of the ribbon of sky that showed above the narrow opening a thousand feet above his head failed to remove the last vestige of doubt.
Like the boys, Hank carried a rubber safe of matches.

Producing this, he struck one of the tiny bits on the corrugated bottom of the little black box, and, shading the flame with his fingers from the moist wind caused by the dashing waters, he glanced at his immediate surroundings.

He had strapped his Winchester to his back, and his arms were free.
A thrill of pleasure went through him, for the first scrutiny showed he was right.

Directly over his head projected a thin ledge within ready reach.