sigh. "Oh,
I do hope we can locate that lost mine!"

"We all hope that!" said Dave.

"Indeed, we do!" cried Phil. "We've just got to do it," he added,
enthusiastically.

Now that he had made up his mind to undertake the expedition, old Tom
Dillon brightened up wonderfully, and to the boys he appeared ten years
younger than when they had first met him. He was a fatherly kind of a
man, and the more they saw of him the better they liked him. He
selected the outfit with care, securing five good horses--one for each
of them and an extra animal for the camp stuff, and other things they
were to take along.

In a place like Butte, where Tom Dillon was so well known, it soon
became noised around that he was going on a prospecting tour. Some asked
him where he was going, but he merely replied that he was going along
with his young friends to show them the mining districts.

"It won't do to let 'em know we are going to look for a mine," he
explained, in private. "If we did that, we'd have a crowd at our heels
in no time."

The news concerning the expedition reached the ears of Sol Blugg and his
cronies, and this, coupled with the sudden departure of Abe Blower, set
that crowd to wondering what was up.

"Maybe it's another gold strike," suggested Larry Jaley.

"It might be," said the fellow called Staver.

"If I thought it was a gold strike I'd follow 'em," announced Sol Blugg.
"Tom Dillon allers was a good one at strikes, an' so was Abe Blower.
They know enough to keep away from anything thet looks like a wildcat.
I'm a-goin' to look into this," he concluded. And after that the Blugg
crowd kept close watch on Dave and his friends.

The departure was made from Butte about noon of the next day. It was
clear and warm, with a gentle breeze blowing from the west.

"We might have taken a train for the first forty miles," remarked Tom
Dillon. "But it wouldn't have helped us a great deal, for we'd have to
side-track for ten miles. We'll go the old way--the way we went afore
there was any railroads."

"There must be a lot of mines in Montana," remarked Phil, as they rode
out of Butte.

"Somebody told me there had been over fifteen thousand minin' claims
staked and recorded," answered the old miner. "O' course, lots of 'em
ain't never been developed. But a good many of 'em have."

"They must produce a lot of gold," said Dave.

"Yes, lad, the output runs up into the millions every year. Oh, a good
mine is a bonanza!" adde