"Well, it ain't much of a wagon. I reckon they took the horse and the pigs and chickens and let the rest slide. The wood don't amount to much; just sticks she's picked up." Mendoza, quite of the opinion that the couple whom up to this time he had suspected of nothing more alarming than an elopement, had suddenly gone very mad, stolidly chucked wood out of the wagon lest a worse thing be demanded of him. "There!" The three gathered around the half-empty wagon in excitement, even Mendoza manifesting a slight degree of zest when through the layer of straw, half covered with sacking, was revealed a number of rough looking blocks, in shape resembling large loaves of bread. Penhallow lifted one with difficulty. "That's what it is, girl," he cried, his eyes glistening. "It's gold straight from the mine. Why, what's the matter?" "It's so disappointing," murmured the girl; "it looks like old junk." "Well, it's pretty good old junk. I only wish it was mine, don't you, Mendoza? This stuff, Mendoza, all belongs to some rich guys who own a lot of mines down yonder. Big, fat chaps who sit in easy chairs back of mahogany tables and let other fellows earn their money for them; fine business, eh?" Mendoza grinned--a comprehending if not a lovely grin. "_Si_," he grunted. "I seen them fat fellers up in San Antone. All got de sickness of de kidney or de stomach. Me, I rather be poor man and live on de outside." "Well, that ain't bad for an old heathen, eh, Miss Polly?" chuckled Penhallow. "Come on, we've got to load this stuff into the Ford before those greasers get here." "How much do you think there is?" asked Polly, eagerly. "Oh, I don't know--a few thousands, I guess. I've a notion old Gasca had to whack up with the fellows who helped him get it across. It's no fortune but it's going to give us lame backs moving it and I reckon the Company will be glad to see it again." It was a hard load to move and long before the transfer was made Polly acknowledged that she was glad they hadn't made a bigger haul. It was growing darker, too, and Wildcat Canyon began to seem less and less the sort of place for a picnic. "Well, little lady," observed Penhallow, as they started down the canyon, "you've done a good night's work for your brother. Say, Mendoza, don't that look like a car to you down yonder?" Polly sat up suddenly. "I thought you said that you owned the only car in town?" "I do. That's why I've a notion that that's mine, though why Ed Merriam should be flourishin' it around here, I don't know." "Car, yes," agreed Mendoza. "Make 'em back up. Can't pass there." At the same moment the other car honked excitedly and Mendoza answered. "There are some men on horseback there, aren't there?" said Polly, straining her eyes. "On the other side of the arroyo--yes. Hullo, guns! Say, Ed's in trouble! Shake a leg, Mendoza--we got to look into this. Girlie, you can lie down if they shoot, do you hear?" "Yes," breathed Polly, excitedly.