"Streaks of daylight, looks like to me."
So it proved to be, and a few minutes later the two boys emerged from the cave to find the sun shining brightly, with nothing in sight to diminish their overwhelming joy.
"We must mark this spot so we can find it again without any trouble," Frank suggested.
"Sure thing," agreed his chum. "And it'd be wise for us to sort of blaze our way to camp."
This they proceeded to do as they made their way along the side of the mountain. It was so rough, after that frightful jumble following the landslides, that they made but tedious progress.
"Never get the ponies in here," Lanky grumbled at one time. "So, like as not, we'll just have to tote all that stuff out on our backs. Whee! it's a bit heavy, even three small nuggets of the same."
"But you'd never have been happy if you hadn't found the cache, remember," Frank told him, at which Lanky grinned.
"That was all bluff, Frank, and you know it," he laughed. "Why, I'm fairly quivering with happiness, and feel like shouting for all that's out, to blow off steam. But when I think of that Nash Yesson and his gang, I shut down on all idea of making a racket."
It took them all of that morning to get close to the plateau where, as they well knew, Gold Fork was located, the former mining camp, taking its name from the clear little stream that ran down the side of the mountain another direction from the great canyon.
Great was the excitement in the camp when the two long overdue boys came in sight. Mr. Wallace and the men had sought for them all morning long, and were preparing to search in another direction when shouts told them the wanderers had been able to get back "under their own steam," to quote Lanky.