Boy Nihilist

by Edward Stratemeyer

an index fingerpointing east.

  He paced the distance as accurately as he could, but by this time he hadentered the cave so far that he could scarcely see about the place.

  But he had come prepared for just such an emergency as this, and takinga candle and match from his game-bag, he proceeded to make a light.

  He glanced cautiously around the dark and somber cave, and the firstthing his eyes rested on were the forms of two dead wolf cubs, evidentlybelonging to one of the mothers he had slain the week before, andundoubtedly starved to death in consequence.

  But this attracted his attention for only a moment.

  Standing at the distance of ten feet from the last-discovered point, heheld up a little compass that he wore as a charm to his watch chain, inorder to ascertain in which direction east lay.

  The tiny magnet finally stood still and pointed. The east lay to theright.

  Again, by the aid of his candle, he searched for indications.

  The walls were damp and seemingly solid.

  Had he lost the lead? With the butt of his pistol he began rapping alongthe stone wall.

  It seemed like original adamant.

  Then he paused, and again consulted the diagram.

  He seemed to have followed it correctly.

  There were no further marks upon it, and he finally began to fear thathe was on the wrong scent after all.

  Again he went to the mouth of the cave, and retraced each pointcarefully.

  There could be no mistake about it, provided he was in the right place;and if he was not, it was a strange coincidence that two such peculiarpoints should exist in more than one cave.

  Once more he approached the side of the cave to which the index fingerpointed, and made a still closer examination of it.

  But it was as solid as granite could be, as indicated by sounds.

  He was about to give up, with the idea that he was in the wrong cave,and began slowly to walk towards the opening.

  Suddenly he remembered that in the Russian language "erweldt" signifiedwest, a thing he had not thought of before.

  With a glad cry he retraced his steps to the point indicated, and thenbegan to examine the walls, which he found more broken than those on theother side.

  There were faint indications of mosses in one or two places, and onsounding them he came upon one large rock that did not seem so firm asthe others.

  Holding his candle closer, he saw what might have been cement orsomething of the kind, and with a throbbing heart he drew a stoutburglar's jimmy from his bag and began prying into a seam.

  It was a powerful tool, worked by a powerful man, and soon the rock,which was fully two feet square, but of irregular shape, began to showsigns of getting loose.

  "Ah! this must be it," said he, as he saw bits of cement crumble andfall.

  But it was no child's-play to move that stone, weighing, as it probablydid, five hundred pounds, and held by the cement that had hardened formore than thirty years.

  Little by little, however, he worked one end of it partially free, andsaw that it stood out at least three inches beyond where it was, and inaddition to this, the cement had now lost its hold, and with onepowerful last effort the rock fell with an echoing thud some three feetto the bottom of the cave.

  Within there was a rough chamber, five or six feet in irregular diameterevery way; and if this was the Devil's Cave, as it was called, this onemust surely have been his oven, so very like one was it.

  Reaching in to allow his candle to light the place, he saw numerousbags, made of reindeer hide tanned without removing the hair.

  "Thank heaven I have found it! Batavsky was as true as steel, and I willbe true to his memory!" said Barnwell, holding the candle aloft.

  It was fully a minute before he could summon sufficient courage toproceed further, so startled were his nerve over the sudden fruition ofhis hopes.

  Then, mastering his emotions, he reached in and lifted one of the bagsfrom its long resting-place.

  It weighed fully ten pounds, and when he set it down upon the sill ofthe opening, there was a confused rattling and clinking inside of thehair-covered bag, a sound that only one coined metal in the world willemit--gold.

  There was no need of opening it to make sure that the contents weregenuine. The sound told that; and old Batavsky's truth, proved up to thepoint, was a further guarantee for it.

  Taking out another one, he started with one in each hand for his wagon,by which Ulrich was waiting, like the patient, honest soul he was.

  Nothing that Barnwell did surprised him. He honestly believed him to bemore than an ordinary man, and capable of doing anything short ofraising the dead; and when he him approaching with those unique bags inhis hand, his curiosity was not aroused sufficiently to make him ask anyquestions.

  Barnwell understood and had faith in him of the strongest kind.

  Setting down the bags by the side of the wagon, he wiped theperspiration from his brow, and then, taking a peculiar key from hispocket, he proceeded to throw back the wagon-seat and to unlock the ironchest beneath it.

  Now, Ulrich had never known that such a contrivance existed in the wagonbefore, although understanding that it was a very heavy vehicle; but heevinced no surprise, asked no questions.

  Getting up into the wagon, Barnwell told him to hand the bags up to him,and without a word he did so.

  Barnwell stowed them carefully away in the large iron box. Then closingit and locking it again, he motioned Ulrich to follow him.

  The horses were securely fastened, and there was not a sound, even ofbirds, in that desolate locality, so all was safe.

  Without exchanging a word, they went back to the cave and brought eachtwo more of the bags, which were placed in the strong-box.

  It was but little past noon when they began, and for two hours theyrobbed that golden cell of its treasures and transferred it to thewagon.

  The bags were in an excellent state of preservation, for the place wasperfectly dry, and besides, they had evidently been prepared with someunusual treatment which made them almost indestructible.

  Finally the chamber was emptied, and Barnwell could but think of thetoil and risk in transporting so much gold to such a far-off place. Itseemed to him almost as marvelous as that it had remained there allthose years without being recovered. But Batavsky was no ordinary man,and undoubtedly knew exactly what he was doing.

  Ulrich's face was a study.

  Had they been transporting bags of stones it could not have been morestolid.

  He worshiped the young American, and for him it was to obey without aquestion, and this he readily did.

  He often looked upon his position as an exalted one, as compared withwhat it would have been had Barnwell not saved him from a debtor'sprison, which is only another name in Russia for a poor debtor's grave.

  Well, when all the bags had been removed, it was found that the box wastoo full to admit of the last four, and these Barnwell placed at hisfeet after the seat had been returned to its place, showing nothingunusual.

  "Now, then, back to the tavern, and not a word of this to anyone," saidBarnwell.

  "Sir, I am your slave," said Ulrich.

  "Say not that. You are my servant, my companion and friend. We are bothof us members of the same great order. You work in your way, I in mine.There are no slaves in our order, Ulrich."

  "It must be so, sir, for you say it," he replied, turning the horseshomeward.

  This was conclusive.

  The bags of gold made a heavy load, and bent the springs well down, butthe horses and the wagon were strong, and these would have deceivedalmost anybody regarding the amount of weight they carried.

  The roads being rough for some distance, they drove slowly and justbefore getting out into the open they met a hunter with a good string ofgame.

  Remembering that he had gone out to shoot, and that they had no game,Barnwell stopped the peasant and bought his choicest birds, after whichthey drove to the tavern.

  Barnwell handed the game
to a servant, who afterwards held the horseswhile he and Ulrich carried the four bags of gold to his room.

  Then the wagon was carefully housed, as usual, and the horses taken careof, after which Barnwell strolled leisurely into the bar-room, where thelandlord and his wife were examining the game.

  "Good luck to-day, I see."

  "Oh, yes, I've had very good luck to-day; and will you oblige me byhaving one of those pheasants cooked for my supper, together with a stewin your best German style made of one of those hares?"

  "Certainly, sir," replied the landlady, at the same time bustling awaywith the game.

  "I am tired and hungry, so let me have the best you can do."

  "With all my heart, sir."

  "And, landlord, bring me a bottle of your choicest Johannisberg out hereon the porch, where I can enjoy it in the shade."

  The landlord hastened to comply.

  "What an appetite it gives, and how generous a good day's sport makes aman," he mused. "A few such customers as this one is would make us rich,and enable us to pay off the thousand marks due on our