"Not in the--the least," was our hero's panting answer. "But it--it was a close call!" and he shuddered. "Do you think he's dead?"

"I shouldn't wonder. You hit him, didn't you?"

"Yes, twice. But they couldn't have been very good shots, or he wouldn't have come for me again."

"Mountain lions is mighty tough, lad. I've seen one with six bullets in him still show fight. Load up, as quick as you can. His mate may be around."

This advice was, however, unnecessary for Dave was already recharging the empty chambers of the pistol. From his Uncle Dunston he had learned years before the advisability of keeping one's weapon ready for use at all times.

The sound of the shots had called the others of the party to the scene, and numerous were the questions asked.

"Wow! a mountain lion!" cried Phil. "And did you kill him, Dave?"

"I don't know whether he is dead. Mr. Dillon and I both hit him, and he flopped around here until he slid down into that hole yonder."

"Maybe he isn't dead yet," suggested Roger.

"Even so, being badly wounded, he'll stick to his shelter," said Abe Blower. "Say," he went on, "thet looks like a putty good sized cave!"

"Just what I was thinking," returned Dave. "I was going to have a look inside, when that mountain lion growled and sprang out at me."

"We'll light some torches, and take a look at the place," suggested old Tom Dillon.

"Oh, supposing it's an entrance to that lost mine!" cried Phil.

"It would be great!" added the senator's son, enthusiastically.

"I hardly think it could be thet," put in Abe Blower. "But if the cave is long enough, it might lead to one o' the shafts as was sunk fer the mine; eh, Tom?"

"That's true," responded the old miner.

"I've got my electric torch with me," said Roger, bringing that useful article from his pocket. "We can use that in the cave."

"The light wouldn't be strong enough, an' steady enough," answered Abe Blower. "We'll have to have regular torches, and plenty of 'em, too.

Caves like thet are often full o' holes, an' ye might step into one an'

fall down to Chiny, or somewhere else," and he smiled, grimly.

The old miners had picked up some sticks for torches on the way, thinking they might come in useful for firewood if for nothing else, and several of these were now lit and swung into a lively blaze.

"No use of all of us goin' in there," said Abe Blower.

"No, somebody has got to stay here an' watch the hosses," answered Tom Dillon.

A brief discussion followed, and it was agreed that Abe Blower and Roger and Dave should go down into the opening, leaving Tom Dillon and Phil to guard the animals and the camping outfit. Possibly the shipowner's son was disappointed by this arrangement, but if so he did not show it.

"It might not take more'n a few minutes to look into the cave," said Abe Blower. "An' then ag'in, it might take some hours. But, no matter how big the hole is, we won't be gone more'n two hours, Tom;" and so it was decided.

As they entered the cave--for such it really proved to be--they held their torches over their heads and looked anxiously for the mountain lion.

"I don't see anything of his majesty," said Roger, in almost a whisper, for the strange adventure had set his nerves on an edge.

"Oh, I suppose he had life enough left to crawl quite a distance,"

answered Dave.

The cave was irregular in shape, forming something of an underground split in the rocks. The flooring led steadily downward, with here and there an opening of unknown depth.

"A good place to prospect," said Abe Blower, as he flashed his torch over the rocky walls.

"Do you imagine there is gold in those rocks?" asked Dave.

"Might be, lad, an' silver, too. But there might not be enough to make it pay to git it out."

"I see the mountain lion!" cried Roger, a minute later. "There he is, in yonder corner, in his den. And look, it's his mate!"

All gazed and not far distant beheld a scene that touched their hearts.

On the rocks lay the dead lion and over him stood his mate, licking his face with her rough tongue.

"Look out!" cried Abe Blower, and drew his horse-pistol--a companion weapon to that carried by Tom Dillon. "She'll come fer us, sure!"

The old miner was right. Swiftly the lioness turned, and set up a savage roar that echoed and reechoed throughout the cavern. Then, in spite of the torches--for all savage beasts are afraid of fire--she prepared to fight those she felt had slain the one she loved.

It was Abe Blower who fired first, and scarcely had the sound of the shot died away when Roger and Dave pulled trigger. Over and over whirled the lioness, and then of a sudden struck one of the wide cracks in the flooring of the cave and disappeared from view. They heard the body strike on some rocks far below; and then all became silent.

"Oh, wasn't that awful!" gasped Roger, and felt of his forehead, where the cold perspiration had gathered.

"I--I kind of hated to do it," answered Dave. "She was mourning over her mate!"

"Shall we send the other body down, too?" went on the senator's son.

"Might as well," was the quick answer, and soon the other lion was dragged to the opening and dropped down. Abe Blower looked on at the work and smiled grimly.

"I suppose ye are sorry for thet lioness, but I ain't," he said. "They are wicked critters, I can tell ye, an' they do a whole lot o' damage."

"I suppose they live according to their nature," replied Dave, softly.

In his mind's eye he could still see the tawny lioness licking the face of her dead mate.

On they went again. The cave was narrow here but presently broadened out. The roof was, for the most part, less than ten feet high, so the boys felt just as if they were "walking between big pie crusts," as Roger quaintly expressed it. The cave seemed to be dry, although when they stopped once more to look around, they heard the distant gurgle of a stream of water.

"Wall, I can't see as it looks anythin' like a mine," announced Abe Blower, presently. "Nothin' like a shaft around here."

"I wonder how long the cave is?" came from Dave. "It must end somewhere."

"Say, wouldn't this make a good place to camp out in?" asked Roger, of the old miner.

"Not much!" was the quick answer.

"Why not? It would be cool in the daytime and warm at night, with a little campfire."