# The Boy Land Boomer/Chapter 3

CHAPTER III
A CAVE AND A CAVE-IN.
Let us go back and see what happened to Pawnee Brown at the time the lariat parted and he found himself going down into what seemed bottomless space.
Instinctively he put out both hands as far as he was able, to grasp anything which might come within reach and thereby check his awful downward course.
The lantern fell from his fingers and jingled to pieces on a protruding rock.
Then his right hand slid over the ends of a bush growing out of a fissure. He caught the bush and held on like grim death.
The bush gave way, but not instantly, and his descent was checked so that the tumble to the bottom of the hole, fifteen feet further down, was not near as bad as it would otherwise have been.
Yet he came down sideways, and his head striking a flat rock, he was knocked insensible.
Half an hour went by, and he opened his eyes in a wondering way. Where was he and what had happened?
​Soon the truth burst upon him, and he staggered to his feet to see if any bones had been broken.
"All whole yet, thanks to my usual good luck," he thought. "But that's a nasty lump on the back of my head. Hullo, up there!"
He called out as loudly as he could, but no answer came back, for Dick and Pumpkin were already gone.
"Well, I always allowed that I would explore the Devil's Chimney some day, but I didn't calculate to do it quite so soon," he went on. "What can have become of those boys? Have they deserted me or gone off for help? If I can read character I fancy that Dick Arbuckle will do all he can for me—and, by the way, can his father's corpse really be down here?"
He brought forth a match and lit it. The battered lantern lay close at hand, and, although without a glass, it was still better than nothing, and, turned well up, gave forth a torch-like flame which lit up the surroundings for a dozen feet or more. No body was there, nor did he find any for the full distance up and down the dismal hole.
"The boy was mistaken; his father wandered elsewhere," was the boomer's conclusion. "Poor fellow, he was in no mental or physical condition to push his claims in the West. He should have remained at home and allowed some hustling Western lawyer to act for ​him. If he falls into the clutches of some of our land agents they'll swindle him out of every cent of his fortune. I must give him and the boy the tip when I get the chance." The great scout laughed softly. "When I get the chance is good. I reckon I had best pull myself out of this man-trap first."
He made a careful investigation of the rocks. At no point was there anything which gave promise of a footing to the top.
"In a pocket and no error," he mused. "I wonder if I've got to stay here like a bull-croaker at the bottom of a well?"
The rain had formed a long pool between the slanting rocks. He threw a chip into this pool and saw that it drifted slowly off between two scrub bushes growing partly under a shelving rock.
With the light he made an inspection of the locality, and a cry of surprise escaped him. Beyond the bushes was the opening to an irregular, but apparently large cavern.
The stream flowed along one side of the flooring to this opening.
"Must be some sort of an outlet beyond," he mused. "I'll try it and see," and in a moment more he was in side of the cavern and crawling along on hands and knees.
​He had not far to go in this fashion. Twenty feet beyond the cavern became so large that he could stand up with ease. He flashed the light above his head.
"By jove! a miniature Mammoth Cave of Kentucky!" burst from his lips.
On he went until a bend in the formation of the cavern was gained. Here the stream of water disappeared under a pile of loose stones, and the opening became less than six feet in height.
"Checked!" he muttered, and his face fell. It looked as if he would have to go back the way he had come.
Again he raised his light and gazed about him with more care than ever.
The loose rocks soon caught his attention, and, setting down the lantern, he began to pull away first at one and then another.
The last turned back, he saw another opening, evidently leading upward.
"This must lead to the open air——" he began, when a grinding of stone caught his ears. In a twinkle a veritable shower of rocks came down around his head. He was knocked flat and almost covered.
For fully ten minutes he lay gasping for breath. The blood was flowing from a wound on his cheek, and it was a wonder that he had not been killed.
"In the future I'll have more care," he groaned, as, ​throwing first one stone and then another aside, he sat up. The falling of the stones had been followed by some dirt, and now a regular landslide came after, burying him up to the armpits.
"Planted," was the single word which issued from his lips. He was not seriously hurt, and was half inclined to laugh at his predicament. Still, on the whole, it was no laughing matter, and Pawnee Brown lost no time in trying to dig himself free.
The stones and dirt were wedged tightly about his legs, and not wishing to run the risk of a broken or twisted ankle, the scout worked with care, all the time wondering if Dick Arbuckle was back, and never once dreaming of the peril the poor lad was encountering. The rain was soaking through the ceiling of the cavern, and the situation was far from a comfortable one.
At last he was free again, and striking a match, he hunted up the lantern and lit it once more.
The opening to the inner cave was now large enough to pass through with ease, and making sure of his footing, the scout moved forward, straining his eyes eagerly for some sign of an egress to the outer world.
Presently he saw a number of straggly things dang ling downward from the rocks and soil overhead.
They were the bottom roots of some great tree standing fifteen or twenty feet above.
​"Not far from the surface now, that's certain," he thought, with considerable satisfaction. "And yet, hang me if I can see an opening of any sort yet."
On and on he went, until nearly a hundred feet more had been passed.
The cave had widened out, but now it narrowed once again to less than a dozen feet. The roof, too, sloped downward until it occasionally scraped the crown of his sombrero.
The light of the lantern began to splutter and flare up, showing that the oil in the cup was running low.
"If only the thing lasts until I find the door to this confounded prison," he thought.
Suddenly a peculiar hiss sounded out upon the darkness.
Pawnee Brown knew that hiss only too well, and leaping back he snatched a pistol from his belt.
The hiss was followed by a rattle, and now, flashing the light around, the scout saw upon a flat rock the curled-up form of a huge rattlesnake.
The eyes of the reptile shone like twin stars, and when Pawnee Brown discovered him he was getting ready to strike.
The rattler was less than six feet away, and the scout knew that he could cover that space with ease. Therefore, whatever was to be done must be done quickly.
​Like a flash the pistol came up. But ere Pawnee Brown could fire a curious thing happened.
A large drop of water, splashing down from the roof of the cavern, caused the light to splutter and go out.
The scout was in the dark with his enemy.
More than this, he was boxed up in a narrow place, from which escape was well-nigh impossible.
Aiming as best he could under the circumstances, he fired.
The bullet struck the flat rock, bounded up to the side wall of the cavern and then hit him in the leg.
"Missed, by thunder!"
He jumped past the spot and moved up the cavern a distance of several yards.
A rattle and a whirr followed, as the great rattle snake made a vicious strike in the dark. An intense hiss sounded out when the reptile realized that the object of his anger had been missed.
Listening with strained ears, the boomer heard the deadly thing sliding slowly from rock to rock, coming closer at every movement.
To flee was impossible, so with bated breath he stood his ground.