oming of a cavern in the canyon which was studded with gold. Many
searches had been made for it, but without success. Hank Hazletine was
among those who engaged in the hunt, but neither he nor his friends
succeeded in finding the place. The veteran was not quite ready to
abandon hope, and when he found himself in the section once more, on the
hunt in which he acted as guide for the boys, he determined to make a
decisive exploration without letting any one know his secret.

It was on this expedition that he succeeded in finding the cavern, but
his trained eye immediately told him the marvellous legend was a myth.
It was a romantic and picturesque spot, but there was not a grain of
auriferous metal or ore in sight. Hoping that a second cavern was in the
vicinity, he extended his search. When he emerged from the gorge, at the
point where the break occurred, it was with the certainty that the whole
thing was a fable. With a grim smile he dismissed the matter and
resolved not to think of it again. He felt that he had acted foolishly,
and his reluctance to tell his story to his young friends, therefore,
was only natural.

But once more the cowman was on his way to the mysterious cavern, drawn
by the hope, rather than the belief, that it was there he would find
Fred Greenwood a prisoner and awaiting the completion of the bargain for
his release by his abductors.

Determined to make no mistake, he halted under the projecting ledge and
spent several minutes in peering around in the gloom. It looked as if he
was right; but the darkness was too profound for him to make sure, and
even the scrutiny of the ribbon of sky that showed above the narrow
opening a thousand feet above his head failed to remove the last vestige
of doubt.

Like the boys, Hank carried a rubber safe of matches. Producing this, he
struck one of the tiny bits on the corrugated bottom of the little black
box, and, shading the flame with his fingers from the moist wind caused
by the dashing waters, he glanced at his immediate surroundings. He had
strapped his Winchester to his back, and his arms were free.

A thrill of pleasure went through him, for the first scrutiny showed he
was right. Directly over his head projected a thin ledge within ready
reach. It was what might be termed the doorstep to the cavern. He had
come to the exact spot for which he was searching.

Flinging the extinguished match into the waters at his side, he reached
upward, and without di