The miners, leading an extra pony for Tad, rode up at that moment. When they glanced at the slight, boyish figure of Tad Butler they were of the opinion that he had best remain at the mining camp. They did not believe him hardy enough to stand the grilling journey that lay before them.
They changed their minds before they had been out of camp an hour. Tad rode well up with the leader, sitting in his saddle like a veteran, taking obstructions in their path with jumps that some of the party balked at and rode around.
"Say, kid, where'd you learn to hit a saddle like that?" called one.
"Does my riding please you?" inquired Tad.
"I should say it did. You are no tenderfoot."
Though the party rode rapidly, the hour was late when they reached the vicinity of the Pony Rider Boys camp. Having approached the place from another direction, Tad did not know where he was.
"It must be somewhere hereabouts," decided the leader. "Can't you remember whether it was to the north or the south of this?"
"Which way is the gorge?" asked Tad.
"That way. Lays right the other side of those rocks."
Tad considered for a moment.