y five thousand dollars for the return
of the boy?"

"Yes, I heard them talking about it."

"That is a new kind of rascality. Do they expect you to bring back an
answer?"

"Yes, massa."

"I must think. What will they do to the boy if I don't give them the
money?"

"They might kill him."

"If they do--but I must have time to think the matter over. Are you
expected to go back this afternoon?"

"Yes."

"Can you get back? It must be a good distance."

"I can get back."

"Stay here. I will consult some of my friends and see if I can raise the
money."

"Very well, massa." One of those whom Jefferson called into consultation
was the person who had guided Caesar to the Griffin Mine.

Quickly the proprietor of the Miners' Rest unfolded the situation.

"Now," he said, "I want two of you to follow this misshapen dwarf, and
find out where he comes from. I want to get hold of the scoundrels who
sent him to me."

"I will be one," said the man with the pipe.

"Very well, Fred."

"And I will go with Fred," said a long limbed fellow who had been a
Kansas cowboy.

"I accept you, Otto. Go armed, and don't lose sight of him."

"Shall you send the money?"

"Not I. I will send a letter that will encourage them to hope for it. I
want to gain time."

"Any instructions, Jefferson?"

"Only this, if you see these men, capture or kill them."

"All right."

CHAPTER XXXV.

A BLOODY CONFLICT.

This was the letter that was handed to Caesar:

I have received your note. I must have time to think, and time perhaps
to get hold of the gold. Don't harm a hair of the boy's head. If so, I
will hunt you to death.

JEFFERSON PETTIGREW.

P.S.--Meet me tomorrow morning at the rocky gorge at the foot of Black
Mountain. Ten o'clock.

Caesar took the letter, and bent his steps in the direction of the place
where he had tethered his horse. He did not observe that he was
followed by two men, who carefully kept him in sight, without attracting
attention to themselves.

When Caesar reached the place where he had tethered the horse, he was
grievously disappointed at not finding him. One of the miners in
roaming about had come upon the animal, and knowing him to be Jefferson
Pettigrew's property, untied him and rode him back to Oreville.

The dwarf threw up his hands in dismay.

"The horse is gone!" he said in his deep bass voice, "and now I must
walk back, ten long miles, and get a flogging at the end for losin