Mr. Lovell waved his hand, taking a sweep of the rugged slope and level stretch at its base.
"Boys—The Rambler Club's Gold Mine!"
"Hooray—hooray!" yelled Bob; and the shout which blended in with his grew in volume until old Cap Slater himself seemed affected by the fever of excitement.
Presently quirts were given a final crack; the bronchos leaped forward, and, in another moment, the crowd caught sight of a lean-to near the base of the mountain and in the shelter of a pine woods.
Soon they dropped from the saddle before it.
The efforts of each to be the first to see the interior resulted in considerable confusion, which Jack straightened out in his usual way, Tim and Dick flying off at a tangent.
But there was too much suppressed excitement for the fun to continue long. Hearts were beating fast, and their eyes sparkled.
Wanatoma seized a pick and shovel resting in a corner.
"Come," he said, laconically.
Skirting around the woods, he led the way up the slope, showing a flash of his old-time strength and agility. They scrambled after him, over turf and rocks, Mr. Lovell and Captain Slater bringing up in the rear. It was hard work for the ex-skipper, who grunted and puffed with the exertion.