The walls had been reinforced with rough-hewn beams.
The floor was packed earth.
A narrow tunnel stretched toward the cabin.
Clara lifted her lantern.
There were footprints in the dirt.
Recent ones.
Samuel crouched beside them.
The impressions were clear.
Large boots.
Heavy heels.
And beside them, smaller marks made by an older, narrower shoe.
"Two people," he whispered.
Clara felt her stomach tighten.
"They've been under our house?"
Samuel nodded.
He stood.
"Stay close."
They followed the passage.
After several yards, it widened into a low stone corridor.
A rusted iron rail ran along the floor.
Clara stopped.
"What is that?"
Samuel looked down.
"Mine track."
"For carrying ore?"
"Yes."
The realization struck him.
The old copper mine had not simply ended on the far side of the ridge.
Its tunnels extended beneath his family's property.
His father had built the cabin near one of the hidden entrances.
Or perhaps the cabin had been built to conceal it.
They continued.
The corridor turned sharply beneath the northern wall.
There stood a heavy wooden door.
On its outer surface were three deep scratches.
Samuel lifted the lantern.
Clara saw his face change.
"Samuel?"
He whispered, "I remember this."
She waited.
"When I was seven, my father brought me down here."
"You said you didn't know the passage existed."
"I didn't remember."
His voice trembled.
"He told me I had been dreaming."
Clara gently touched his arm.
"What happened?"
Samuel stared at the scratches.
"There was a man behind this door."
Clara's blood seemed to turn cold.
"A man?"
Samuel nodded.
"I remember hearing him."
"What did he say?"
Samuel closed his eyes.
For a long moment, nothing came.
Then he whispered, "He kept asking for water."
Clara covered her mouth.
Samuel opened his eyes.
"I told my father. He said the mountain made strange noises."
He touched the scratched wood.
"But I heard a man."
The door was unlocked.
Samuel pushed it slowly.
The hinges moved almost silently.
On the other side lay a chamber much larger than the passage.
And it was not abandoned.
A small oil lamp burned on a wooden table.
Fresh blankets lay folded beside a narrow cot.
A basket contained potatoes, dried apples, and two pieces of bread.
Several hooks hung from the wall.
One held a dark wool coat.
Another held a leather satchel.
And in the corner stood a heavy wooden chest.
Clara stared in disbelief.
"Someone lives here."
Samuel approached the table.
Beside the lamp lay a knife, a tin cup, and a small notebook.
He opened the notebook.
The handwriting was narrow and careful.
The first page contained dates.
December 2.
December 5.
December 9.
Beside each date was a short description.
North chimney clear.
West entrance frozen.
Woman works in kitchen until dusk.
Clara felt sick.