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investigate it,” said the commander. “Take us down, Bingo.”
    The canyon was so deep and narrow that Bingo had to use all his skill to ease the Space Jumper into it and bring it safely to the bottom. He stopped it a few feet above the canyon floor, and Big Butch opened the hatches and dropped an anchor.
    Everyone crawled out, including Claws, the cat, who had been asleep under a bunk all the time.
    Bingo looked worriedly around. There was no cave entrance in sight. If one was to be found, it would obviously have to be found on foot, for the canyon was much too narrow to explore in the Space Jumper. It was also obvious that the commander wasn’t going to be of much help, for it was hours past his lunchtime, and there wasn’t a scrap left to eat. The commander, Bingo saw, was sagging like a starved jellyfish.
    â€œPops,” he said, “why don’t you let Butch take you home and fix you a snack? I can stay here and be looking for Bolts.”
    The commander brightened at the thought of food, but he said uncertainly, “I don’t like leaving you here all alone, Bingo. This is one of the wildest parts of Mexico. If anything happened—”
    â€œAw, what could happen?” Bingo protested. “There’s no danger, now that that gang’s been captured. And you’ll be back in no time in the Space Jumper. What do you say, Pirate?”
    â€œI say it will be a rewarding experience,” cackled the parrot.
    That settled it. Bingo strapped on a wrist radio, and Butch, Pirate, and the commander crawled back aboard. It wasn’t until the Space Jumper was out of sight above the canyon that Bingo remembered Claws, the cat. When he looked around, he discovered that Claws had vanished.
    â€œHey, Claws!” Bingo cried out.
    Instantly the narrow canyon roared with thundering echoes: “CLAWS! CLAWS! CLAWS!”
    Bingo stood shaken till the echoes died, then he saw Claws’s small footprints in the fine sand that covered most of the canyon floor. The footprints led downstream—in exactly the opposite direction from where he wanted to begin his search.
    â€œCrazy cat!” he grumbled, and began running downstream as fast as he could follow the trail. In spite of what Pirate had said, he had an awful feeling that Claws’s curiosity was going to get them both in trouble.
    Bingo rounded a curve in the canyon wall, and stopped in astonishment. A large cave opened on his left. From it a tiny stream flowed down to join the slightly larger stream in the canyon. Bingo dashed inside, following Claws’s footprints.
    Again he stopped, his eyes widening. Claws was not in sight. But over on one side were cots, blankets, boxes of provisions, camping equipment, and a large radio on a crate. Filling the dimness beyond was a deep pool of water from which ran the tiny stream.
    Whose cave was this?
    Suddenly uneasy, Bingo thought of Bolts, and turned on his wrist radio.
    â€œBolts!” he called. “Where are you? Please come in!”
    Poor Bolts couldn’t hear him, for he was in a ticklish pickle, and needed his tail for a balance. He was clinging to a slippery rock that threatened to send him tumbling at any moment, and it was positively the last foothold in the cavern. The way of escape was in sight—but reaching it seemed forever impossible.
    Behind him the fox critter was saying crossly, “What’s the matter with you? Go on! Go on!”
    â€œCan’t!” Bolts said despairingly. “Ain’t you got eyes? There’s nothing ahead but water! We’ve come to the end of the line.”
    The trickle they had been following had widened and deepened. Behind them lay several large pools that they had passed with difficulty, for the cavern had been narrowing as the water widened, leaving little room to stand. Now there was no place left to stand, and in front of them stretched the largest pool of all.
    On the far side of it gleamed a