Ahead of him, just beyond the light, there was a black wall; he could not move his head, but he saw where that same wall closed in on the left.

He turned his gaze upward, and it ended with that same imprisoning barrier of rock.
Then he looked down, and the cry of horror that rose in his throat died in a muffled groan.

The light fell dimly on a sack--two of them--three--a tightly packed wall of them.
He knew now what had happened.

He was imprisoned in the coyote, and the sacks about him were filled with powder.

He was sitting on something hard--a box--fifty pounds of dynamite! The cold sweat stood out in beads on his face, glistening in the lantern-glow.