Along the cañon wall there was a steep but well constructed trail that afforded secure footing to a traveler who was not troubled with giddiness.
Without once stopping, Sam and his companions made their way to the bottom of the rift and forded the roaring torrent that thundered over its uneven bed.
On the cañon wall, opposite to that by which they had descended, they saw about a hundred feet above the stream, what seemed like a number of illuminated pigeon holes. This was their home, the place to which had been given the not inappropriate name of "Gold Cave Camp."
With barks of delight, a big dog met them near the water and joyously escorted them up the other side to an irregular plateau, about a hundred feet in diameter, that shot out like the once famous Table Rock at Niagara.
This plateau was in front of the cave, in which the miners had made their home.
The background of light revealed the forms of three men. The dress and long cue of one bespoke him a Chinaman, the second was dressed like a hunter, and the third, a tall, powerful figure, had only his heavy beard and striking stature to distinguish him.
"Is that you, Sam?" called out the tall man, as the foremost of the party reached the plateau.
"Yes, father," was the reply, "and we have brought back some meat."
"Wa'll!" exclaimed the second man, "I didn't think thar was a pound of live meat left within twenty mile of yar."
"Hoolay! Bully! Now me gettee suppel!" cried the excited Chinaman, who was known by the fitting name of Wah Shin.