"Simply amuse yourselves," replied Mr. Wallace. "But keep a bright lookout for those scamps we suspect are somewhere around this region, ready to spy on us, in the hope of snatching the prize away in case we find it. Yes, and you might take the entire bunch of ponies along that rocky trail to the right." "Where does it lead, Dad?" asked Lanky. "Jerry told me," replied his father, "that there is a queer little walled-in strip of land about a quarter of a mile further on, where, strangely enough, the finest of green forage could always be found, winter and summer. They used to turn their animals in there to feed and drink at the spring." "Shall we stake them out?" asked Frank. "No need of that," he was informed smilingly. "Nature took charge, and left only one narrow exit and entrance to this highly favored pasture. There are, it seems, several rocks that can be easily moved, and which when placed in position form an excellent barrier that the smartest cow-pony would be unable to jump." "This sure is the land of marvels," grinned Lanky. "We'll take all the ponies out there, and shut the gate of the corral on them," promised Frank. "You might unload the pack-pony, boys, and put the stuff for our rations in one of these shacks, covering it all over, so that no possible curious eyes would suspect its presence." With these words Mr. Wallace handed over the bridle of his mount, and in company with the other men made ready to go forth in a first attempt, under Jerry's reawakened memory of his surroundings, to locate the Lost Mountain of Gold Fork. Left to themselves, the boys deposited the stores in one of the huts that seemed to have a better roof than any of the rest. This had been proved in the recent cloudburst, for some of the ruined buildings were soaked, while the earthen floor of their choice seemed quite dry. Then they set off with the bunch of weary animals. Sure enough, after leading their four-footed charges along the still well defined if ancient trail, they presently arrived at the pasture. "Worth coming a long way to see such a curiosity," announced Lanky, as they took saddles and bridles off the ponies and turned them into the rock-surrounded enclosure one by one, to feed and rest. "Beats any man-made corral I ever set eyes on, and so simple, too." "All we have to do now," Frank observed, after the last cayuse had kicked up his heels and galloped off to join its mates, already eagerly nibbling at the sweet green grass, "is to work these rocks into place so they'll close the gap, and the bunch is safe from any stampede." "That wash over there, with the low bank," ventured Lanky, "must be where some sort of stream passes through. The water would be cold as ice, for it comes down from the mountain tops, where there's always heaps of snow, summer and winter."