Traces of Troglodytes, 293 



For the first time in my experience the early fire 

 and steaming coffee-pot were too commonplace for 

 contemplation. There was but one influence con- 

 trolling us : to solve the mystery of the cave. It 

 was a matter of pick and shovel, and poetry 

 promptly took to the woods. 



The cave, let me say, is not in limestone, but in 

 shale, and how far, if at all, artificial is a matter 

 of opinion. I could not divest myself of the feel- 

 ing that man had had a good deal to do with its 

 shaping. My companion thought otherwise, and 

 based his views on the peculiarly friable condition 

 of the rock. As it proved, this is not so impor- 

 tant a matter, and I have faith yet in that first im- 

 pression, that whisper in the ear of the returning 

 ghost that tradition holds once groaned and 

 growled in the cave whenever the night was 

 stormy. 



When we came to dig, — for the treasure was 



hidden in the floor, if anywhere, — a few prosaic 



thoughts came to our rescue, and we were sobered 



straightway. We had a thick deposit of tough 



earth and broken rock to examine, bit by bit, and 



this over a space some five feet in width and six 

 25* 



