“Guadalupe? Oh, no,” responded Pierre, politely adopting the change of language, “she is just one servant, our cook—one very excellent cook, as monsieur knows—and ze guardian of ze cave. For ze real white wolf guards Guadalupe—ze big animal is just like one tame dog to ze old squaw, but with his fierce jaws he would kill anyone who dared to approach her or come near ze hidden entrance to zis cavern. No man can ever find zat while ze white wolf is alive. In ze old days he killed several men when zey dared to follow Guadalupe.” “Then the white wolf must be very old?” “As old as Guadalupe—as old as the Tehachapi mountains,” exclaimed Pierre, again crossing himself and thereby revealing the superstitious dread in which he held the savage animal. “But you can pass the white wolf, can’t you?’ asked Dick. “Never—except when Guadalupe give permission. Then ze wolf lies down and I can come out of ze cave or enter. Ah! ze white wolf is one terrible beast. But he never shows his teeth to Don Manuel. Only Don Manuel can pass when Guadalupe is not there.” “Then where is Guadalupe’s riffle of gold—where is the lake of oil about which you told Tom Baker?” “Come, I will show you zese,” replied Pierre. As he rose he picked up the lantern he usually carried. Dick jumped to his feet with alacrity and followed his guide. They crossed the main cavern, then entered another side gallery. This had many windings and from it ran several diverging rock corridors. But Pierre led the way unfalteringly. Fully half a mile must have been traversed when at last the Frenchman halted and swung his lantern aloft. “Zere!” was all he said. Dick followed the flash of the lantern, and there before him was a dark pool stretching away indefinitely into the blackness beyond. He bent down and scooped up a little of the fluid in his palm. It was a brown oil, as thin as water, and therefore capable of use without any refining process. “Great Scott, this is wonderful!” exclaimed Dick in profound amazement. “Very wonderful,” concurred Pierre. “In zis cavern are oil and water, also gold—Guadalupe’s gold. Ze gold is close to here. Come.” Pierre turned and again led the way through dark and winding corridors. At a little distance Dick became conscious of the purling of a running stream. Pierre stopped once more, but this time held the lantern close to the ground. “Here Guadalupe come to wash out ze nuggets of gold, and since I have been in prison she buy with zem, so Mr. Baker say to me, groceries at ze store. Don Manuel, when I tell him, he very angry—she never do zat again.” “Poor old Buck Ashley!” laughed Dick. “He lost you, Pierre, and now he’ll be losing his best paying customer, too.” While speaking, he knelt and dipped his hands into the stream, bringing up some gravel into the lantern rays. But Pierre shook his head.