They reached the cabin of which the woman had spoken, late in the

afternoon. Here they picketed their horses and prepared to stay over

night, while she went on to the Pocket. Before leaving she gave Mr.

Britton the lace scarf which she wore about her head.

"I shall not go in there until night," she said; "then I can watch and

find if all is right. You start early to-morrow morning on foot. Set the

dogs on my trail and follow them to the fork; then turn to the left and

follow them till you come to a small tree standing in the trail, on

which I will tie this handkerchief. Straight ahead of you you will see

the entrance to the Pocket. Wait by the tree till you see my signal. If

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everything is right I will wave a white signal. If I wave a black

signal, wait till you see the white one, or till I come to you."

Early the next morning Mr. Britton and his men set forth with the hounds

in leash, leaving the horses in charge of their drivers. The dogs took

the scent at once and started up the trail, the men following. They

found it no easy task they had undertaken; the trail was rough and steep

and in many places so narrow they were forced to go in single file. Some

of the men, in order to be prepared for emergencies, were heavily armed,

and progress was necessarily slow, but at last the fork was passed, and

then the time seemed comparatively short ere a small tree confronted

them, a white handkerchief fluttering among its branches.

They paused and drew back the hounds, then looked about them. Less than

ten feet ahead the trail ended. The rocks looked as though they had been

cut in two, the half on which they were standing falling perpendicularly

a distance of some eighty feet, while across a rocky ravine some forty

feet in width, the other half rose, an almost perpendicular wall eighty

or ninety feet in height. In this massive wall of rock there was one

opening visible, resembling a gateway, and while the men speculated as

to what it might be, the woman appeared, waving a white handkerchief,

and they knew it to be the entrance to the Pocket.

"She evidently expects us to come over there," said one of the men, "but

blamed if I can see a trail wide enough for a cat!"

"Send the dogs ahead!" ordered Mr. Britton.

The dogs on taking the scent plunged downward through the brush on one

side, bringing them out into a narrow trail leading down and across the

ravine. Just above, on the other side, they could see the woman watching

their every move.

"I've always heard," said one of the men, "there was no getting into

this place without you had a special invitation, and it looks like it.

Just imagine one of those fellows up there with a gun! Holy Moses! he'd

hold the place against all the men the State, or the United States, for

that matter, could send down here!"