As Westy peered around the tree he beheld something which at first shocked him, then relieved his nervous tension somewhat. Just outside the entrance of the cave was a face upturned toward the sky. At first he saw nothing but this face framed in darkness; it seemed to have no body connected with it. He could not see it well enough to distinguish the features, but he could make out that it bore a flowing mustache. Nor could he see whether the eyes were open, but he assumed they were not, for the posture of the head was certainly not that of one on guard. At first Westy thought that the man might be looking up into the tree ready to shoot, not knowing that he, Westy, had descended. He had enough presence of mind to look about for anything that glistened, but could discover no betraying glint of a pistol.
Strangely enough, the sight of this upturned face, grim and ghastly because only hazily revealed in the blackness, reassured him. It was a jarring sight, but better than uncertainty.
Cautiously, testing every move, he crept a few inches closer. The face seemed to move, yet still lay stark, staring like a dead man at the starless heaven. It was only the faint shadow of a fluttering twig crossing that motionless face.
Westy crept a few inches closer. And then, suddenly, he realized that Bloodhound Pete was on guard. He was on guard in his sleep. He was not sleeping with one eye open. But he was on guard with both eyes closed. He was sleeping in the little hole which formed the entrance of the cave. His body, as well as Westy could make out, was mostly within the dank little retreat; only his head and shoulders were outside. It would have been impossible to pass by him, in or out.
So small was the opening that dangling tentacles of root hung low above his face like loathsome snakes, and as they swayed in the breeze caused tiny shadows to play upon his motionless countenance, producing a ghostly and startling effect. It seemed evident that his companion was a prisoner within; he could not have escaped except across the prone body of his comrade. Thus Bloodhound Pete guarded, even in his sleep, the accomplice whose services had probably been necessary to him. He seemed to Westy to have an uncanny power.
The boy wondered whether this little cell was a favorite resort of the outlaw because exit from it could be so conve............