So I had almost forgotten the mine,
until I realized that the thing was planted right in front of
where Dolph Gage's crew were hidden. By the way, Jim, where is
Alf?"

"All the information I've got wouldn't send you two feet in the right
direction," the guide reported gruffly.

"And where are our tents and the other stuff?" Harry demanded.
"Gage's crew couldn't get far with them in the time they've had.
Shall we hustle after our property?"

"Yes," nodded Tom.

"At the momentary risk of being shot to pieces," added Mr. Dunlop,
dryly.

"Those little chances go with being involved in a Nevada mining
dispute, don't they?" queried Reade.

"Where can we begin to look?" Harry pressed. "Let's scurry about
a bit. Surely men can't get away with tents without leaving some
trail."

Within two minutes they had the trail. Marks were discovered
that plainly had been made by dragging canvas and guy-ropes along
over the ground.

"We'll find our stuff soon," predicted Tom, striding along over
a rough trail. "The scoundrels didn't have a team, and they wouldn't
take the stuff far without other transportation than their own backs.
Hello! What's in there?"

Tom had detected some motions in a clump of brush.

"Look out!" warned Jim Ferrers, bringing his rifle to "ready."

But Tom darted straight into the brush.

"Then this is where you are?" demanded Tom dryly. He glanced down
at the cowering form of Alf Drew.

"So you've got the 'makings,' have you?" Reade demanded, seizing
Alf by the collar and yanking him up to his feet.

Paper and tobacco fell from young Drew's nerveless grasp to the
ground.

"You made me drop the makings of a good one," whined Alf resentfully.

"You didn't have that stuff two hours ago. Where did you get
it?" Reade demanded.

"Found it," half whimpered Drew.

"Do you expect me to believe any such fairy tales as that?" insisted
Tom Reade.

"If you have tobacco and cigarette papers," Tom continued, "then
some one gave the stuff to you. It was Dolph Gage, or one of
his rascals, wasn't it?"

"Don't know him," replied the boy, with a shake of his head.

"Now, don't try to fool me, Drew," warned Tom, with a mild shake
administered to the youngster's shoulders. "How much tobacco
have you?"

"A whole package," admitted Alf reluctantly, feeling that it would
be of no use to try to deceive his employer.

"And plenty of papers to go with it?"

"Ye-es."

"You got it from four men?"