gold mines especially. 'Bye."

"Well, what d'ye think of that?" grinned the Pickle after Tad had left
them.

"I think somebody will get hurt if they don't leave us alone," growled
Darwood, caressing the butt of his revolver. "I'm getting tired of this
kind of nagging."

"That outfit isn't nagging you," answered Bruce.

"How do you know?"

"They are nothing but boys. At least one of them is the right sort.
Spotted Face did us a favor. He isn't a crook."

"I haven't said he was. But you don't know who is in their outfit now.
Besides, there isn't one chance in a thousand that they'd be so close on
our trail unless they had followed us on purpose. No, this business must
be stopped. We may be on the right track, and if we are we must protect
ourselves, and we'll do it, even though we have to kill a few curious
hounds who are following the trail. The boy business may be merely a
mask for the operations of some other persons."

"Why don't you find out, then?"

Darwood bent a keen gaze on his companion.

"What do you mean?"

"Hunt up their camp and see what is going on?"

"I'll do it," answered the gold digger with emphasis. "What's more, I'll
do it now."

"That's the talk! If you hurry, you may be able to find the boy and
follow him in. Shall I go along?"

"No. You stay here and look after things. I may be away for some time. I
don't know where they are, but I'll find them if it takes all day. If
our two comrades come in, you hold them here. Needn't tell them where I
am."

Darwood shouldered his rifle and strode from his camp without another
word. Bruce replenished the fire in order to make a smudge that could be
smelled for some distance away, which was for the purpose of directing
their companions to them, and also had served to call Tad Butler into
their camp in advance of the other two gold diggers.

Tad was out of sight by the time Curtis Darwood got out, but Darwood was
able to follow the boy's trail, though it was not an easy one. Tad had
made no effort to mask his trail, but his natural instincts taught him
to leave as few indications of his progress as possible. Darwood saw
this. Instead of lessening his suspicions this fact served to increase
them. The gold digger was using his nose more than his eyes, sniffing
the air for the smoke from the camp of the Pony Rider Boys' outfit. He
caught the scent after half an hour or so of trudging over the hard
trail. From this time on it was easy so far as fi