"That was all bluff, Frank, and you know it," he laughed. "Why, I'm fairly quivering with happiness, and feel like shouting for all that's out, to blow off steam. But when I think of that Nash Yesson and his gang, I shut down on all idea of making a racket." It took them all of that morning to get close to the plateau where, as they well knew, Gold Fork was located, the former mining camp, taking its name from the clear little stream that ran down the side of the mountain another direction from the great canyon. Great was the excitement in the camp when the two long overdue boys came in sight. Mr. Wallace and the men had sought for them all morning long, and were preparing to search in another direction when shouts told them the wanderers had been able to get back "under their own steam," to quote Lanky. Then the story was told and the precious nuggets passed from hand to hand, to prove it was an actual fact. Plans were immediately made to proceed to the cave in the morning in order to bring away the treasure. Mr. Wallace figured that they could transport it on their backs to the corral where their ponies were quartered, and then the journey back to Rockspur Ranch would be next in order. Every one was to be in the party, even Paul, whose ankle, though still a bit painful, was not sore enough to keep him from feasting his eyes on that strange five-fingered cave, also the gold nuggets lying in the hiding place shrewd old Josh Kinney had chosen many years back as his treasure cache. Thanks to the slashes Lanky had made on occasional dwarf oaks, they had no trouble whatever in attaining their goal. A large assortment of good torches had been prepared on the previous afternoon, consequently they lost no time in plunging into the passage so cleverly concealed behind a screen of thick vines hanging down the face of a small cliff. When the last nugget had been drawn out from its depository and the entire collection fastened securely in some six stout gunny-sacks, the mouths of which were tied with strands of rope, they decided to lose no time in starting for the camp. That was where they miscalculated, for something happened to interfere with their plans. Zander Forbes, being in the lead, had just stepped out from behind the vines and turned an outlying rock when the smash of a gun was heard and he came backing into the hole again. "Those sneaks have spotted us on the way here, and are lying in wait to do us up!" he announced. Every one knew without asking that he meant Nash Yesson, Lef Sellers--if the Columbia shirk still hung on to the gang that had been abusing him so shamefully of late--and the rough boys from the boisterous Double-Z Ranch. "Shot like they meant business, too," added the indignant and angry Zander, as he ruefully rubbed a red line on his neck that indicated the recent passage of a hot bullet.