Bisbee daily review., 1918-07-28
.A6NaRt0Nd6| lG3 By GIllen A. Cain..

unmOVed. No one but fool would go down in that cave" he said Be sides. it is not a cave. It is a snake hole; a pit; a wClfs lair. l stuck my head in and loo ,ed long enough to see you sliding straight down over rcck as big as a piano. Now. l am not a badger or a mole or a ground hog. ! cannot wiggle like a worm and l have no wings like a bat or eyes like a cat
 q used to fall for this limb-to-limb and cliff-to-cliff stuff and be proud of
 my bruises and beast of my narrow slaves with hospitals and mOrgues. | but I'm off all that for good What's
 the matter with you? Why did you
 come back? Don't you like nice, big pretty caves?"
 The newspaper man raised his voice and said things about caves and Jones
 and idiots in general that cannot be set down here His idea had always
 been that a real cave was arched and
 domed and pilastered by the Hand that ! fashioned the world. The caves he | had read about contained wide, high 1 passages and grand aisles and noble | spaces and smooth floors. But this darned little old twisted. ragged. jag ged water drain in the mountains bore
 no relation whatever to Tom Sawyer'S
 cave in the Mississippi river bluifs-
 The newspaper man and the auto
 editor went down to the car and spent
 the rest of the day speculating upon
 the fate of Jones. And the newspaper
 man bound up his wounds and burned
 sticks before his Joss for saving him C. aeaI
 his wrath
 Six hours later a group of quarry
 slaves scOurged from their dungeon.
 staggered into view. Jones leading
 them. "Oh. you missed the time of
 your life," called out Jones. Great
 est place you ever saw. We have had
 a wonderful experience"
 They looked it. Jones. like Marco Bczarris, was bleeding at every
 vein" His clothes hung in shreds. his
 hat was ground to pulp, his face was
 smeared with dirt and streaked with
 blood and haggard with fatigue. He
 sagged at the knees and dropped at
 the shoulders and swung loose from
 the hips. His hands were curved like
 the talons of an eagle and several fin
 ger nails were missing from the roll
 call He limped badly and appeared
 to be running on the rims with all the
 cylinders missing but one. And his
 companions were in no better shape
 Even Stuart. made of Whipcord and
 wire cable, admitted it had been a
 hard trip. Fitzpatrick had been shot
 in the ankle with a rock launched
 from a catapult and he had holes in
 his arms that might have been made
 with flint arrows shot by the Aztecs
 of old.
 There was no use trying to get any sense out of Jones regarding the trip
 through that cave. He just walked up : and down and raved about its wonders
 But Fitzpatrick. sitting upon a stump
 and nursing his shattered ankle and the many other griesous hurts upon his person. spoke sanely and gamely concerning their expedition. They had descended something like a mile into !. the mountain and the way got worse
 instead of better as they went on. In
 place called "Solomon's Temple" Fitz had received his first wound, he said. Then he had crawled a hundred yards on his stomach and let himself
 down with a rope to the edge Of an EIH c1 anu NAAA tNA a NeAf~A-A eAA-N -e---- ed across a chasm. Here he met with
 the mishap to his ankle. He had but little recollection of the terrible trip 1. back to daylight He lost conscious ness at the Devils Elbow and made the entire journey in a sort of waking
 nightmare The gleaming sunlight re- , vived the spark of life, not yet quite 5 extinct.
 2. Yes. that cave in Cave Creek canyon
 is doubtless a great cave. The auto editor says so, and he stuck his head , in and took one long look. Jones says
 so. and Jones ought to know. for he , tapped every foot of it with his bloody 2 hands and suffering knees and wrench 2 ed side. Fitz says it is, and Fitz left 4 his shirt there and a pint of blood and ,, is burning wax still to his patron saint - fer having intervened to keep him f from leaving his life there. e Quite a cave. A regular doll house
 They ought to give a dance in there ' or a Red Cross bazaar. After all, the t' auto editor was the Cnly one in the e party that showed human intelligence. q He stuck his head in. took one look n anf backed out. The others offered d their bodies as a sacrifice. s Oh, yes. about that carburetter- t Jones may be a fool about caves but a he is a judge of carburetters. His fliv- s yer burned the roadway to a cinder an
 the way Co Cave Creek canyon. A O ninety horsepower Fiat. stripped ana e tuned for the track. got in the way a Il few miles cut of Douglas and Jones h fumed and swore for seven miles be l cause it's tagging speed delayed his s flivver on the way. At last he passed q it on a hill A Chandler roadster tried Q Co argue with him over the right Of , way but Jones turned on the gas and p that carburetter did the rest. Q This newspaper man drives a flivyer k of his own and it is some little car. d but it mixes and burns gas in an or dinary way and has no ambitions be- yCnd a steady road gait of twenty-five l. miles. But JOnas has dClled up his D simple and plebian flivver in the gor- i gcCus garments of a patrician speed king and it flirts with forty miles all a ..,r.fn The rsrn r,