“Shore as you’re born,” whispered the cowboy, in elation.

Ben was the last to hear the unmistakable dull thud and slow clip–clop of hoofs.

“Catch lot more,” announced the Indian.

“By golly! Ben, we shore can,” returned Nevada, now excited. “Listen. You see the bunch we’ve trapped are far down in the cave drinkin’, an’ waitin’ for their turn. They don’t know they’re ketched. Wal, we can raise the gate, stand it to one side, an’ hide close by. Some of the new hosses will go down shore.”

Ben felt the leap of temptation, but he found strength to deliberate, and attractive as the idea was he decided against it.

“We’ll let well enough alone,” he said. “A bird in the hand, you know. We might catch more. But we stand a chance to lose what we’ve got. Suppose the horses down there would start a stampede up that trail. We could never close the gate on them. It’s too risky.”

“Wal, second thought is best. I reckon you’re right,” returned Nevada, reluctantly. “An’ even if our luck held we might ketch too many to handle.”

* * * * *

It seemed to Ben that the moon would never go down and dawn never come. To and fro he strolled over the lava, under the pines, revolving thoughts new to him. Several times a trampling, snorting uproar came from the cave. The trap was an efficient affair, because in the upper part of the trail there was room for only one horse at a time. With the gate closed over the outlet the horses could not get started. Ben had an idea they would give up rather quickly for wild horses.

At length the moon went down and gradually the gray obscurity turned to black shadow. The darkest hour came and passed. Then a faint brightening in the east told of the approach of day. Soon the sky lightened and turned rose; the shadows paled and vanished; quickly then, it seemed, day was at hand.

Ben and his two companions crawled into a covert of brush and peeped over the rim of the cave. Nevada evidently got the first glimpse of the wild horses, for he gave Ben a tremendous punch that all but knocked both breath and sight out of him. It certainly was not because Ben discovered anything that he returned the punch with good measure. In another instant, however, he saw clearly. The white ash floor of the great hole was covered with wild horses, and toward the ascent where the trail started up horses were packed closely. A line of them narrowed up the trail clear to the top. They stood motionless, dejected, as if they knew their case was hopeless.

Ben drew back to relax and collect his wits. Nevada kept looking for a long time. When at length he did move back to confront Ben his face was alight with amaze and joy, and his disheveled black hair appeared to stand on end.