“That doesn’t concern me too much,” the rancher replied. “If Stony left a cache and it’s still here, I admit I’d like to have it. I could enlarge my ranch, rebuild the barn, and make a lot of repairs. But getting the ore out of this valley would take some doing, I reckon.”
With darkness fast coming on, the Scouts pushed rapidly along. Gone was all fatigue. An excitement which steadily mounted buoyed up their spirits and made them forget their weariness.
The sun was nearly down when at last the party trudged up to the cabin they had seen from the distance. They approached cautiously, mindful that Walz and his guide or the unknown inhabitant of Crazy Mountain might have taken refuge there. They found no one, though. Jack pointed out that the cabin logs were in a remarkable state of preservation for having stood so long.
“This cabin has been kept repaired,” Warner announced after he had looked it over.
Telling the Scouts and Mr. Livingston to keep back, he crept to the glassless cabin window and peered in. Seeing no one, he motioned that it was safe for the others to approach.
The cabin was practically without a floor, since the boards had deteriorated. Furniture consisted of a broken-down table, a stool, and a pile of fir boughs which had served as someone’s bed.
Jack went over and touched the ashes in the crumbling fireplace. “Warm,” he reported.
“Someone has certainly been living here recently,” Warner said. “No sign of anyone around now, though.”
It was too late to search that night for the caches of gold ore which Old Stony had claimed he hid in the hollow. Feeling almost as if they were intruders in the valley, the Scouts set about preparing supper.
Warner fished the lake, bringing in a nice mess of trout. It heartened the group. They had decided to hoard enough of the meager supplies for an emergency return to Elks Creek if necessary.