“All together,” whispered Ben, hoarsely, laying hold of the gate. “Now, heave.”

They staggered with the heavy burden to the wide crack in the rim. In a few more seconds the opening was covered, the huge rocks in place to hold the gate.

Then Ben stood up, wet with sweat, and stared speechlessly at the cool cowboy.

“Wal, Ben, how aboot my hunch now?” he drawled.

“Hunch?” echoed Ben.

“Shore. Aboot the change in our luck. Reckon you was so crazy you couldn’t see. But I figgered there was over a hundred haid of horses in that bunch. They’re trapped. They’re ours. Nothin’ to it but a little work. An’ what do we care for work?”

“Nevada—your hunch—must be straight,” panted Ben, sitting down and wiping his wet face. “My heavens! how easy! It’s too good to be true.”

“Nope. It’s good enough to be true. When we ketch California Red—then you can rave. This is all just in the day’s work for us.”

“Let’s get back—from the rim,” said Ben, rising to peer into the huge shadowy abyss. One side was black in gloom, the other silver in the moonlight. The wild horses did not yet know that they had been trapped. Hollow ring of hoofs came from the cavern. It seemed tremendously deep and large, magnified by the night.

“Wal, heah’s my idee,” began Nevada, very businesslike, when they had moved back from the rim. “It’s a big haul of wild hosses. They’ll be some fine ones, an’ a lot of good stock. It’ll cost money to save them, but nothin’ compared to what they’re worth. Send Modoc to Hammell for hay an’ grain, wire an’ rope an’ nails. We’ll need a couple wagon loads of stuff. We can pack in heah from the road. While Modoc is gone we’ll cut fence posts. We’ll build a big corral. We’ll feed them hosses, an’ when we’re ready we’ll let some up into the corral where we can ketch them. A few at a time, while the main bunch down there is gettin’ used to us. Huh?”

“It’s a grand idea, Nevada,” averred Ben. “If there are as many as you think we’ll be a month and more on the job.”

“Ben, you know a bunch of hosses at night is always deceivin’,” said Nevada, seriously. “Even a small bunch will have a lot of hosses. An’ that was an awful big bunch crowdin’ to go down the trail.”

“Nevada, you’re a comforting cuss,” returned Ben, happily. He breathed a long deep sigh. “By golly! Some day——”

“Ahuh!” drawled Nevada, interrupting. “Don’t you try to steal my hunch. Suppose we take another little snooze.”

“Not me!” exclaimed Ben, shortly. “Dawn is not far away. I’ll sit up.”

“Wal, it’s shore nice to be in love, but I got to sleep, an’ eat regular, too.”

Modoc, who had been standing to one side, suddenly uttered a low exclamation. Then he said: “More wild horse come.”

Instantly Ben and Nevada became silent statues.