In the Pecos Country by Edward Sylvester Ellis (books to read in your 30s TXT) 📕

O'Rooney stood with rifle grasped, while young Munson ran toward him from the centre of the cave, exclaiming in his excited tones:

“There's another man back yonder! I saw him and spoke to him!”

“Did ye ax him anything, and did he make a sensible reply?” demanded the Irishman, whose concern was by no means equal to that of the lad.

“He made no answer at all, nor did he seem to take any notice of me.”

“Maybe it's a ghost walking round the cave, on the same errand as meself. But whist now; where is he, that I may go and ax him the state of his health?”

The lad turned to lead the way, while Mickey followed close at his heels, his gun ready to be used at an instant's warning, while Fred kept glancing over his shoulder, to make sure that his friend was not falling too far in the rear.

It seemed that, while the man was engaged in his exploration, the lad had ventured upon a little prowling expedition of his own. During this he made the startling discovery that some one else was in the cave, and he dashed off at once: to notify his friend and guide.

Fred walked some distance further, still holding the torch above his head and peering into the gloom ahead and on either hand, as though in doubt as to whether he was on the right track or not. All at once he stopped with a start of surprise, and, pointing some distance ahead and upon the ground, said:

“There he is!”

Following the direction indicated, Mickey saw the figure of a man stretched out upon the ground, face downward, as though asleep.

“You ain't afeard of a dead spalpeen?” demanded Mickey, with a laugh. “You might have knowed from his shtyle that he's as dead as poor Thompson was when Lone Wolf made a call on him.”

“How do you know he's dead?” asked Fred, whose terror was not lessened by the word of his friend.

“'Cause he couldn't have stretched out that way, and kept it up all the time we've been fooling round here. If ye entertain any doubt, I'll prove it. Let me have your torch.”

Taking it from the lad's trembling hand, he walked to the figure, stooped down, and, taking it by the shoulder, turned it over upon its back. The result was rather startling even to such a brave man as Mickey. It was not a dead man which the two looked down upon, but practically a skeleton—the remains of an individual, who, perhaps, had been dead for years. Some strange property of the air had dessicated the flesh, leaving the face bare and staring, while the garments seemed scarcely the worse for their long exposure.

Another noticeable feature was the fact that the clothing of the remains showed that not only was he a white man, but also that he was not a hunter or frontier character, such as were about the only ones found in that section of the country. The coat, vest, and trousers were of fine dark cloth, and the boots were of thin, superior leather. The cap was gone. It was just such a dress as is encountered every day in our public streets.

Mickey O'Rooney contemplated the figure for a time in silence. He was surprised and puzzled. Where could this person have come from? There was nothing about his dress to show that he belonged to the military service, else it might have been supposed that he was some officer who had wandered away from his post, and had been caught in the same fashion as had the man and boy.

“Are there any more around here?” asked Mickey, in a subdued tone, peering off into the gloom.

Fred passed slowly round in a circle, gradually widening out, until he had passed over quite an area, but without discovering anything further.

“There isn't any one else near us. If there is, he is in some other part of the cave.”

“How came ye to find this fellow?”

“I was walking along, never thinking of anything of the kind, when I came near stepping upon the body. I was never more scared in my life.”

“That's the way wid some of yees—ye're more affrighted at a dead man than a live one. Let's see whether he has