"That queer fish with the body of a runt and the head of a giant seems to answer to the name of Rick Muddy," Frank told himself. "The name about fits his crooked body, I'd say. Those other three tough-looking citizens must hang up their hats at the Double Z when they're at home, for they've got the make-up of cow-punchers, heavily armed, and out for business." One of these men he heard called Malachi and another Zeke, but the third one's name was never made known. Nash Yesson was not knuckling down to anybody, it appeared, from the way he turned from one to another with snarls and hard language. Continual disappointments while on the way to Rockspur Ranch and afterwards had roiled him unmercifully, so that, as Lanky afterwards expressed it in his customary picturesque language "the man was like a bear with a sore head." "And as for you, Rick Muddy," the boys could hear Yesson pouring out his wrath upon the head of the pudgy chap, "even after you'd been given complete directions you had to go and fizzle the worst kind. Why, those kids got the better of you and grabbed the second chart after you'd nearly dug it up! You're a rank failure and ought to be kicked out of camp for being such a gink." "I own up they bamboozled me some," grumbled the small man. "But other dubs livin' in glass houses oughtn't to throw stones." "What d'you mean by that, you fool?" gritted Yesson threateningly. "Only that you done the same stuff when you nearly had that first map," retorted the other, probably relying on the fact that the three hard-riding cow-punchers were pals of his and would not see him knocked down by Yesson. "If you'd jumped your claim then we'd be all fixed right now to walk in on that nugget cache! Ain't that so boys?" "It sure is," replied the tallest of the wranglers in a voice that rumbled like the sound of approaching thunder. "But all bets are off, and we don't want to eat each other up for nothin'. When we grab what we've got hidden here, we'll be fixed so's to start off fresh again and locate that Lost Mountain." "That's the stuff!" chanted the fellow answering to the name of Malachi. "What Zeke here managed to pick up from that wrinkled old Indian squaw ought to help us find the cave. And once we get our paws on the jack, we'll fight anybody to the death who tries to pry it away from us." "You said it, Malachi!" retorted Nash Yesson grimly. "I've been stalkin' that nugget claim too long now to show the white feather to a dozen pikers who are tryin' to chase me off the trail. We're close to it right now, and if those other guys come walkin' up to close the deal, why, here's six little boys ready to say 'hands up, gents!'"