"Hurrah!" yelled Thure, the moment his eyes caught sight of this mountain. "There is Three Tree Mountain! We sure are on the right trail. Bully for Dickson!" Our friends now had passed beyond the realm of the hitherto ubiquitous miner. The wilderness was supreme. Everywhere around them mountains and forests and valleys and streams stood unchanged, as they came from the hand of God. Game of all kinds was abundant. Bud shot a young buck elk, which they ate for supper, when they went into camp for the night at the foot of Three Tree Mountain. The guard was doubled that night and the camp-fire was kept blazing brightly, so that no one could creep into camp unseen under cover of the darkness. These precautions proved effectual; and the night was passed without alarm. Dickson found no trouble in following the trail during the day. At every turning point some remembered landmark would show him the right way to go. A short time before night they passed over a ridge of rocks and looked down into a quiet little valley, near the center of which lay a beautiful little lake. "Behold!" cried Dickson, pointing to the water, that shone like red gold in the red rays of the setting sun. "Behold, Goose Neck Lake! It was while standing at this very spot and looking down on the peculiar necklike bend of the lake, that Stackpole gave it the name, Goose Neck Lake. There is a little grove of trees on its north shore that will make us a fine camping place. And tomorrow afternoon sometime we should be in Lot's Canyon! Come on," and he hurried down the ridge toward the lake. It was dark when they reached the north shore of the lake and pitched their camp in the little grove of trees. All were in high spirits; for on the morrow they would be in Lot's Canyon, almost at their journey's end, almost within reach of the Cave of Gold! For the last two days they had not seen nor heard a sign of their enemies and they were beginning to hope that, in the maze of deep gulches and ravines and little mountain-enclosed valleys through which they had been passing, they had given them the slip, and this hope added to their cheer. Consequently the little group that gathered around the camp-fire that night was unusually merry--all except Pedro, who went about his camp duties with a sullen troubled look on his face. Ever since the night Mrs. Dickson had been found tightly bound in her tent, his face had worn a troubled expression and his eyes were continually turning to Thure, with a wondering questioning look in them, as if there were something about the boy that he could not understand; and every time he had heard the name of the skin map mentioned he had become instantly alert, but always in such a way as not to attract attention in his direction. Now, on this night, his was the only gloomy face in the company.