"No, it doesn't, for I know that it's a lie. You are here to rob him."

"You'd better not insult me, boy, or I'll have your life."

"Get up this instant and leave the tent, or I'll fire," said Tom,
resolutely.

"A young cub like you can't frighten me. That shooting-iron of yours
isn't loaded," said Bill Crane, rather uneasily.

"It'll be rather a bad thing for you to take the risk," said Tom, with a
coolness that surprised himself, for the situation was a strange one for
a boy brought up in a quiet New England farming town.

"What do you want of me?" growled the desperado, uncomfortably, for he
was satisfied that the weapon was loaded, and Tom looked as if he would
shoot.

"I want you to leave that tent at once," said Tom.

"Suppose I don't."

"Then I shall fire at you."

"And be hung for attempted murder."

"I think I could explain it," said our hero. "You know very well what
will happen to you if you are caught."

Bill Crane did know. Hanging was the penalty for theft in the early
days of California, and he had no desire to swing from the branch of a
tree.

"You're a young fool!" he said roughly, as he rose from his stooping
posture. "I wanted to ask Miles to do a little commission for me in
Frisco. I had no thought of robbing him."

"You can see him in the morning about it," said Tom, resolutely.

"I'll be even with you for this," said the foiled thief, as he sullenly
obeyed the boy, half-ashamed to do so.

Tom went back to his tent, aroused Ferguson, and the two took turns in
guarding the tent of Miles during the night. Tom did not wish to awaken
him, for he needed rest on the eve of a long and fatiguing journey.

CHAPTER V.

MILES SETS OUT ON HIS JOURNEY.

"When Miles woke up in the morning he found Tom beside him.

"Hallo, Tom!" he said, in some surprise. "This is an early call."

"I have been here half the night," said Tom, quietly.

"How is that?"

"I was afraid you would be robbed."

"Did you have any particular reason for fearing it?" asked Miles,
quickly.

Thereupon Tom described his chance visit of the evening before, and what
he saw. As might have been expected, John Miles was indignant.

"The miserable sneak! I'd like to wring his neck," he exclaimed. "Did
you say he had his hand upon the bag of gold-dust, Tom?"

"Yes; I distinctly saw him attempting to draw it out from under your
head."

"If the boys knew of this, Crane's fate would be sealed. A thief in a
m