Steve shifted his gaze to the right, from where the stream flowed out of the walls above the tunnel. And there stood Pitch, flat against what seemed to Steve to be a sheer, bare sheet of stone! He wanted to yell, but was afraid that anything he did might upset Pitch’s balance. So he remained still and silent while he watched Pitch move slowly across the wall like a human fly.

A few minutes later Pitch had reached the tunnel and was coming down the trail to the cave.

“Steve!” Pitch shouted when he was still fifty yards away. “What I’ve found! What treasures! And it’s only the beginning!”

And then Pitch had reached the ledge, the pockets of his jacket bulging, and his eyes met Steve’s. Pitch saw the concern on his friend’s taut face, and his own became puzzled before breaking into a wry smile.

“You thought I was a goner up there, didn’t you?” he asked. “Well, it’s safer than it looks from here, Steve. There’s a wide ledge—the side of it must have been built up by the Spaniards—so it’s as easy as walking down a flight of stairs. There are some small caves up there, Steve, and you should see—”

Pitch, whose hands had gone to his pockets, broke off abruptly, puzzled again by the expression on Steve’s face.

“You didn’t run into any trouble, did you?” he asked with concern. “I saw that Piebald devil moving around when you first set out this morning. I was worried until you got clear across the valley and he went back to his grazing.”

Suddenly a swift look of guilt swept over Pitch’s face as he studied Steve’s unwavering gaze. Here he was shooting off his mouth about himself, and the boy was hungry and looking very worn.

“You’d better eat,” he said quickly. “And you must be dead tired. Where have you been, anyway? What have you been up to?” Pitch sheepishly withdrew empty hands from his pockets and walked toward the stove. “I’ll get the fire going,” he said, then added with his back turned to Steve, “I don’t suppose you found that red stallion. Didn’t see him, did you?” Without waiting for Steve’s reply, he asked, “Do you want just beans or shall I open a can of soup, too?”

“I’m not hungry,” Steve said quietly. Somehow all his enthusiasm to tell Pitch everything that had happened was gone. He felt let down. Maybe he was tired—but he couldn’t afford to be tired now. He had to get back to Flame. Desperately Steve tried to regain his lost enthusiasm. “Pitch—” he began.

“But you have to be hungry,” Pitch interrupted. “You haven’t eaten, and it’s way past noon.”

“I know, Pitch. I know I should be hungry, but I’m not. Pitch—”