“But we won’t need to search for it,” interposed Tom.

At his words all eyes were turned upon him, and Mr. Wilder voiced their sentiments by asking: 

“Why?”

“Because I know the very place where Horace and Larry and I rode into the mountains.  I thought I might want to remember it, so I broke off some branches and cut a half moon in one of the trees with my jackknife.”

“That’s all right, but why should we follow that trail?” demanded Bill.  “The men who set the fire were all of—­how far, Horace, from Tom’s trail?” and he looked at his brother.

“A good twenty miles.”

“Why should we ride twenty miles when we can start right in at the hills back where the fire started?” continued Bill.

Some of the cowboys laughed at this seeming evidence of Tom’s lack of understanding of the situation, but the younger of the chums had his good reasons, as he quickly proved by replying: 

“Because that is where they drove fifty cattle in.  Mr. Jeffreys said it was a short cut.  Besides, it stands to reason the men wouldn’t have gone that way unless the trail led to the mine where they could join the rest of the gang.  I may be from the East,” and he glanced at the boys who had laughed at him, “but I’m not so much of a tenderfoot as not to know four men aren’t going on a pleasure trip with a herd of fifty steers.”

“I reckon the kid is right,” said the owner of the Half-Moon after the merriment this jibe evoked had subsided.  “Even if the ‘rustlers’ didn’t know we had started when they lifted the cattle from the pool, they’d know something was up when all the boys were away and that we could follow the trail to the mountains.  Consequently, they being only four, would take the shortest route to join the main body.”

“That argument would have been all right before the fire, Jim, but things are different now,” rejoined Bill.

“Certain.  But the difference is the raiders will take more time in driving the cattle in the thought that there’s no one to pursue ’em till the fact of the prairie fire reaches Tolopah.”

“And then that bow-legged sheriff will set out,” grunted Skinny.  “He couldn’t catch a prairie dog.  There’s only one man I’d like to see on the job besides the bunch we’ve got here.”

“Name him,” cried several of the cowboys.

“Shorty Jenks.”

“Why, that’s our friend!” exclaimed Tom and Larry.

“I don’t know about his being a friend of yours, but there’s nothing on two or four legs he’s afraid of.  And he’s great on tricks.  He’d think up a scheme in no time to land Megget.”

“I think Tom’s idea is the right one,” said Mr. Wilder.  “By riding that trail we can reach the Lost Lode probably in a few hours, while it might take days to find where the gang that set fire rode into the hills.  This rain has cooled off the ground, so we can start right away.”