Creedon was a rough and ready sort of man, but not, the fellow, as Desmond argued, who would apply himself to a critical study.  It was a great thing to have learned the facts concerning the old Mexican, and the lad really believed that there was gold secreted somewhere in one of the little cavities in that perforated mountain.

Creedon started in to relate to Brooks the facts about the mine he believed he had discovered, and Desmond, taking the mask lantern, started off to explore.

“You will burn out all my oil, lad; that is the only harm you will do, and certainly little good.  I cannot replenish the oil when it’s burned out, and I’ve been very careful, holding it for only such occasions as when we came here across the chasm.”

Creedon explained that he had only carried with him one can of oil, which had lasted him to date.

Desmond started off and went direct to the crevice he had first entered, and Creedon smiled as he saw him go in there, remarking to Brooks: 

“The lad will run up against a stone wall sure, but he is enthusiastic; it will be a lesson to him.”

“Can’t tell about that lad,” said Brooks, “there is method in his enthusiasm.”

“That’s all right, but I was camped in here one whole winter, and as I told you, there is not a nook or cranny that I have not explored.”

“But there are others,” said Brooks, with an odd smile on his face.

Meantime, Desmond followed the crevice until he came to the stone wall.  He knew about the same wall, but he was working on a certain theory.  He was like the Captain Kidd treasure-seekers—­the discouragement of others did not in any way discourage him, and we will here say that a similar persistence in any walk of life, as a rule, leads to great results.

Desmond, as stated, arrived opposite the stone wall, and he commenced a calm, steady, determined examination.  First appearances would have discouraged any man, being faced as he was by a solid, smooth face of rock.  He stood contemplating the mass before him, and then with the ray of light from his lantern he ran all over the rock.

“By ginger!” he muttered at last, “I reckon it’s true.  There does not appear a hole big enough in that rock for a spider to crawl through; but, hang me!  I’ve got an impression.”

There appeared to be a break in the rock just where it joined with the roof of the cave.  Desmond rolled a bowlder over against the rock and mounted, and ran his finger over the crack.  It was not a large crack and offered no encouragement, but the lad was determined not to be satisfied until he had established facts beyond all dispute.  He ran his finger, as stated, along the crack, and his knuckle pressed against the roof, and to his surprise there appeared to be a loosening.  He examined it and he saw that there was a uniform crack running along the roof inclosing a space about two feet square.  The lad instinctively pressed on the center between the cracks, and lo, there appeared to be a piece of the roof that yielded.  He pressed harder and satisfied himself that the piece of rock between the cracks in the roof was movable.  The discovery caused his heart to stand still, and he muttered: