“By—golly!” he whispered, hoarsely. “Did you see that bunch of hosses?”

“I—sure did—but not very clear,” replied Ben, breathlessly.

“Pard, we’re rich!”

“Oh, now, Nevada, don’t you go off your head,” whispered Ben, hurriedly.

Modoc drew back to join his two comrades. His bronze face was wreathed in a smile seldom seen there.

“Lot horses all good,” he said.

“Ben, I’m knocked into a cocked hat,” whispered the cowboy. “There’s at least a hundred an’ fifty haid in that bunch. Reckon I never seen a finer lot of wild hosses.”

“Let’s peep again, then chase back to camp and get things started,” said Ben.

This time Ben took his fill gazing, and his sober conclusion was that Nevada had not exaggerated in the least. What a splendid catch! Ben could not locate the magnificent black stallion that had been the leader, but he saw enough individually fine horses to fulfill the most exacting hopes of a wild–horse hunter.

“Reckon they might just as well have a look at us,” said Nevada, and rising he exposed himself on the rim. Ben got up in time to see the horses break into a trampling, whistling, plunging uproar. They surged from one side to the other, plunged at the ascent, only to press closer into a dense mass. Many on the outside ran back into the dark cavern; some pounded at the steep iron walls; those on the trail were crowded off to admit of others. A cloud of white and red dust rose to hide them. Nevada called down to the captured horses, but in the din Ben could not distinguish what he said. Drawing the cowboy back, Ben led him in the steps of Modoc, who was hurrying toward camp.

They partook merrily of a hearty breakfast. Then after Modoc had been dispatched posthaste on the important mission, Ben and Nevada set to work in grim earnest on the long strenuous task.

During the day they often left off cutting poles and posts to walk around the rim of the cave, purposely showing themselves to the trapped horses. On each occasion a terrific mêlée ensued. The second day was like the first, and on the third the wild horses began to get used to their captors.

Modoc arrived eventually with all Ben’s pack horses heavily laden, and he announced the wagons would reach the end of the road late that day.

It took two whole days to pack the supply of hay, grain, rope, hardware, and other supplies up to the camp. By this time the wild horses had grown thin and gaunt, but not to the extent that Ben was concerned about them.

While Ben and his comrades were in sight on the rim the wild horses would not eat the hay thrown down to them, but when morning of the next day came it had all been consumed.

With these important initial steps of the plan wholly successful, Ben and his men were jubilant, and confident of the outcome. They built a large corral around the level space on the trail side of the cave, with high fences running to the gate. Then began the strenuous job of letting out a few of the horses at a time, roping them, and breaking them sufficiently to lead them across the miles of forest and sage to Ben’s pasture on Forlorn River.