"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!" added Tom Dillon, emphatically.

"Then I trust we locate the Landslide Mine, and that it proves a bonanza," returned Roger, eagerly.

On the way they passed mine after mine, and the boys were much interested in watching the process of getting out ore, and also in the work of the huge quartz-crushers. Whenever they passed a mine there would be sure to be somebody to wave a friendly hand to Tom Dillon.

"He certainly is well known," whispered Roger to Dave.

"Yes, and we were mighty lucky to fall in with him—after missing that Abe Blower," was the reply.

It was not until about five o'clock in the afternoon that they reached a small settlement known as Robby's. Here they rested and had supper. They inquired about Abe Blower and his party, but could find out nothing concerning them.

"They must have gone around by Tilton," said Tom Dillon. "That's just as good a trail and about as short. We'll hear from them at Black Cat Camp."

It had been decided to push on to Black Cat Camp after supper, the old miner stating they ought to make the distance in three hours. Soon they were on the way again, just as the sun was sinking behind the great mountains in the west.

"I hope Abe Blower stopped for the day at Black Cat Camp," said Roger to his chums. "I'd like to meet him and confront Link Merwell—and Job Haskers, too, if he is with them."

"So would I," added Dave and Phil, in a breath.

It was more agreeable riding, now that the heat of the day was over. At noon it had been very hot, but none of the boys had complained, although they had perspired freely.

As it became darker they could see the twinkling lights of many a mining town and camp shining out in the mountains and the valleys below.

"It didn't used to be so, when first I came to Montana," remarked Tom Dillon. "In them days you could ride out here all night an' not see a light. But the State has settled putty fast in the last twenty-five years. They are buildin' railroads everywhere, an' towns spring up over night, like toadstools."

"Are there any wild animals out here?" questioned Phil.

"Heaps of 'em, further away from the cities. Bears, an' mountain lions, an' wildcats, an' wolves. An' then we have plenty o' mule an' other deer, an' elk, as well as Rocky Mountain goats, an' mountain sheep."

"Perhaps we'll get a chance to do some hunting!" exclaimed Phil.

"Not much, this time o' year, lad. But you might hunt a bear—if he cornered you!" And Tom Dillon laughed at his little joke.

"Did a bear ever corner you?" asked Dave.

"Onct, just onct, and it was the wust experience I ever had with a wild beast," replied the old miner. "I was out prospectin' when I got on a narrow ledge o' rock. All to onct I discovered a grizzly on the tudder end o' the ledge. We was both sitooated, as the sayin' is, so I couldn't pass the bear an' he couldn't pass me. I had fired my gun an' missed him. When I tried to pass by he riz up an' growled an' when he tried to pass me I swung my gun a-tryin' to knock off his head. An' so we had it fer about an hour, nip an' tuck, an' nobuddy doin' nuthin."

"But you escaped," said Roger. "How did you do it?"

"I didn't do it—your uncle, Maurice Harrison, done it. It was a favor I owed him that I never got paid back," responded Tom Dillon, feelingly. "The bear got mad and all to onct sprung at me. I swung the gun an' he knocked it outer my hand. Then I heerd a report from another ledge above us, and over rolled Mr. Bear, shot through the heart. An' Maurice Harrison done it."

"Good for Uncle Maurice!" cried Roger.

"That shot came just in time," went on the old miner. "If it hadn't—well, I wouldn't be here, lookin' for the Landslide Mine," concluded Tom Dillon.

"I don't know that I want a bear to corner me," said Phil, with a shiver.

"No, we'll leave the bears alone, if they'll leave us alone," returned Dave.

It was a little before nine o'clock when they came in sight of Black Cat Camp, a typical mining community, perched on the side of one of the foothills leading to the mountains. There was one main street, stretched out for the best part of a quarter of a mile. All the buildings were of wood and none of them over two stories in height.

"We'll go to Dick Logan's place," said Mr. Dillon. "That is where Abe Blower used to keep his outfit."

The boys found Logan's place to consist of a general store, with a sort of boarding-house and stables attached. Dick Logan was behind the counter of the store, in his shirtsleeves. He greeted the old miner with a smile, and shook hands cordially.

"Is Abe Blower around?" demanded Tom Dillon, without preliminaries of any kind.

"He was around, Tom, yesterday," was Dick Logan's answer. "But he left here about the middle of the afternoon."



CHAPTER XVII

ALONG THE MOUNTAIN TRAIL

The boys had expected some such answer as this, so they were not greatly surprised. They were introduced to the storekeeper by Tom Dillon, who then asked if Abe Blower had been alone.

"No, he had two others with him—strangers to me," answered Dick Logan.

"Was one of the strangers an elderly man and the other a young fellow like ourselves?" asked Roger.

"Yes, a tall, thin man. The young feller called him Haskers, I think."

"What name did the young man go by?" asked Dave.

"Morse, I think—or something like that."

"Morr?" put in Phil.

"Yes, I reckon that was it. Then you know 'em?" questioned the storekeeper, with interest.

"Yes, we know them, and we'd like to meet them," answered Roger, dryly.

"Well, I dunno where they went—Abe didn't say an' it wasn't my business to question 'em," returned Dick Logan. "Looked to me like the elderly gent was some kind o' a school sharp."

"He used to be," answered Dave. "And we all were under him."

"Oh, I see. Well, I dunno where they went, 'ceptin' they struck out along the Billy Rodman trail," said the storekeeper.

"Abe took his regular outfit, I reckon," remarked Tom Dillon.

"Sure—he never goes up in the mountains without it, Tom; you know that."

"And the three were alone?"

"I didn't see nobody else."

"Can you put us up for the night, Dick?"

"I can if the young fellers will sleep in one room. I got a little room fer you an' a big one I can put three cots in."

"That will do for us," answered Roger. "We have been out in such places as this before," he added, with a faint smile.

"We ain't got no bathrooms, nor electric elevators," returned Dick Logan, with a chuckle. "But we kin give you clean beds an' blankets, and good grub."

"You don't have to tell me that, Dick," put in Tom Dillon. He turned to the others. "It's all right, boys; just make yourselves at home. We'll get a good night's rest here, and follow Abe and the others fust thing in the mornin'."

The room the boys occupied was on the second story, at the corner of the building. Under the side window was a driveway leading back to the stables attached to the establishment. The apartment had two cots already in it and a third was speedily forthcoming, being put in place by a negro man-of-all-work.

"Well, that long ride to-day certainly made me tired," remarked Phil, as he started to undress. "I could sleep standing up, as the saying goes."

"I'm tired myself," answered Roger.

"Wonder how the folks are making out in the Park," came from Dave. "I hope they have better accommodations than this," and he glanced around at the bare walls and bare floor.

"Oh, Yellowstone Park has some fine hotels," declared Roger. "I read all about them in one of the tourists' guides. They have just erected a new one that they say is a dandy."

"Never mind those hotels now!" cried Dave, as he slipped off one shoe after another. "It's get to bed now and an early start in the morning to see if we can't catch Blower, Haskers, and—Morr!" and he grinned.

"The cheek of Link Merwell using my name!" murmured the senator's son. "I'll—I'll knock him down for that, if I get the chance!" And his eyes blazed for the moment.

Soon the boys were abed and it did not take them long to drop into profound slumber. In the next room was Tom Dillon, also sleeping peacefully.

Dave was the first to awaken and he slid off of his cot to look out of the window, to see what kind of weather it was. The window had been left wide open, to let in the fresh air, and as our hero stuck out his head and glanced down in the alleyway leading to the stables, he uttered an exclamation of surprise.

"What is it?" questioned Roger, rousing up, followed by Phil.

"Those men!" murmured Dave. "Look, fellows!"

The others came to his side and looked out of the window. Just emerging from the alleyway were three men on horseback, all equipped for camping out. The three men were Blugg, Jaley, and Staver.

"Well, I declare! What are those fellows doing here?" cried the senator's son.

"Can they be following us?" questioned Phil.

"I don't know. They came from the stables," answered our hero. "Most likely they had their horses there over night. We can find out when we go down."

"Where are they going?" asked the shipowner's son.

All watched for a minute or two and saw the Blugg crowd pass down the main street of the camp and around a warehouse corner. Then they were lost to view.

Tom Dillon had heard the boys rising and was now up himself and getting dressed. He listened with interest to what they had to relate.

"It's queer that crowd should be here, after what happened in Butte," he said. "I'll ask Dick Logan about 'em, when we go to breakfast."

When questioned, the proprietor of the place stated that Blugg and the others had come in late, after the Morr party were abed. As the place was full they had accepted a room in the building across the street, but had put up their horses in the Logan stable. They had paid in advance, stating they were going to leave at daybreak.

"Let us ask the stable man about this," suggested Dave, in a whisper, to his chums, and as soon as breakfast was over, they went out and hunted up that individual.

"Nobody teched your outfit, I dun see to that," said the colored man. "I slept right by your hosses an' things."

"Did you talk to those men who came in late last night?" asked Dave.

"They did most of the talkin', boss. They wanted to know all about your party—whar you was a-gwine, an' all that. But I didn't give 'em no satisfaction, I didn't. Boss Dillon tole me las' night to keep my trap-doah closed, an' when Boss Dillon sez a thing I dun know he means it,—so I didn't tell 'em nuffin'."

"Good for Mr. Dillon!" cried Roger. "They didn't say what brought them here?"

"No, sah. When they see I didn't have nuffin' to tell they jest closed up, too," and the negro grinned, broadly. He had been liberally tipped by Tom Dillon and, besides, he considered it an honor to serve such a well-known personage and one who had "made his pile," as it is often expressed in that part of our country.

The lads and the old miner were soon ready for the trail, and, bidding Dick Logan farewell, they set off through the main street of Black Cat Camp in the direction of the Rodman trail, called by a few old-timers Smoky Hill trail. As they rode along they kept a sharp lookout for Sol Blugg and his cohorts, but that gang did not show itself.

"But they must be watching us, I am almost certain of that," said Dave. And he was right. They were watching from behind one of the buildings of Black Cat Camp, and as soon as it seemed safe to do so, Sol Blugg ordered those with him to take up the trail.

"Abe Blower came this way, in a hurry, too," said Blugg, to his cronies. "Now Tom Dillon is going the same way, and also in a hurry. That means that something is in the wind. Maybe it's another big discovery of gold, like when they opened up Big Bear Camp, and Hitchley's, an' if it is, we want to be in on the ground floor."

"Right you air, Sol," said Larry Jaley. "And if we can cut Abe out o' anything, so much the better, fer the trick he played us in that land deal."

"The two crowds must be in with each other, otherwise wot was them young fellers as is now with Dillon doin' at Abe's house?"

"We'll find out their game, sooner or later," muttered Sol Blugg. "We'll keep on their trail—but we mustn't let 'em see us, or they'll take to some side-trail and put us in blind."

It was another clear day, but the breeze from the mountains was fresher, so that riding was not so tiresome as it had been on the first day out. The trail was wide, in fact often used by wagons and carts, so that our friends could ride two abreast.

"Not much of a farming country around here," remarked Dave, as he looked at the general barrenness of the aspect. Here and there were clumps of trees and patches of rough grass, and that was all.

"The farming country is further down, in the valleys," answered Tom Dillon. "Some pretty good soil, too. But up this way it's only good for mining. But that's good enough—if you've got a paying mine," and his kindly eyes twinkled.

"You bet!" replied Dave, slangily. "Oh, I do hope we find this mine," he added, in a lower tone. "The Morr family need it."

"I thought the senator was putty well fixed."

"He was, but he isn't now—and there is danger of his losing his office this fall. If he does lose it, and we don't find the mine, I am afraid it is going to go rather hard with the family."

"I see. Well, we'll do our best—nobuddy can do more."

"About how much further is that Landslide district from here?"

"Not over sixty miles as the crows fly. But by the trails it's every bit o' twice that distance. An' some putty stiff travelin', too, in some spots, believe me!" added the old miner.

"Do you think you can stand it?"

"Sure I can. And I like it, too, lad. I git tired o' sittin' around the hotel, doin' nuthin' but readin' the papers and trying to be what they call a gent of leisure. I was brought up on hard work, and outdoor life, and I just have to git back to it onct in a while. If you hadn't come along as you did, most likely I would have dug out for the diggin's alone afore long."

"It's a grand life to lead—this one in the open air," said Dave, filling his lungs with the ozone from the mountains.

"Best in the world, lad. It's the only life fer me, too. If I had to sit in an office all day, or around a hotel where I had to wear one of them biled shirts and a coat cut like a tack puller, I'd die, believe me! I'd rather wear a gray shirt, an' eat off a tin plate, any day!"

By noon they came to a little mountain stream of the freshest and purest of water and there they went into temporary camp. A tiny blaze was kindled, and they made some coffee, which they drank while eating some sandwiches Dick Logan had put up for them.

"See that ridge?" asked Tom Dillon, just before they were ready to start again, and he pointed to an elevation to the northwest. And as all three lads said they did, he continued: "Well, just back o' that is the deestrict where that big landslide took place and buried the Landslide Mine out o' sight."

"Why, that doesn't look to be very far away!" cried Roger.

"No, it don't look so, lad. But you must remember that the air up here is very clear an' you can see for a long distance. You'll find it a long, hard ride afore you reach that ridge, let alone the place behind it where the mine was."

"Are there any settlements on the way?" asked Phil.

"None that we will visit. Shaleyville is in that direction, and Tim Dixon's over yonder, with Big Tree back o' it. But we will give them all the go-by an' stick to this trail," concluded Tom Dillon.

All through the long afternoon they rode forward, up and up, the horses panting for breath as the ascent grew more steep. Many times they had to stop to rest. As they mounted higher, the panorama of hills and mountains grew larger.

"What a beautiful spot!" cried Dave, when they were resting. "What a grand painting this would make!"

"You'll find a painting of it—at the capitol building," replied Tom Dillon. "A celebrated painter painted it and sold it to our State government."

Forward they went again. Phil was now in the rear, looking after the horse that was carrying their camping outfit. Just as those in front had turned a dangerous corner of the rocky trail they heard a sharp cry from the shipowner's son.

"Help! Quick, somebody help me! Stop that horse from falling over the cliff!"



CHAPTER XVIII

THE STOLEN HORSES

"Oh, look!"

"That horse is going over the cliff!"

"Take care, Phil, or he'll drag you with him!"

Such were some of the cries which arose as the others looked back on the rocky trail and saw the situation.

The horse with the outfit had struck against a projecting rock and been thrown sideways, to where the trail crumbled away in some loose stones close to the edge of the dangerous cliff. The animal and the outfit were in danger of going down to the depths below. Phil, on his own horse, had caught hold of the other horse's halter and was trying to haul him to a safer footing. But the youth and his steed were losing ground instead of gaining it.

"Let go, or you'll go over!" screamed Roger, in increasing alarm. "Let the outfit go, Phil!"

The shipowner's son tried to do as bidden. But now a new difficulty presented itself. In his eagerness to hold the halter Phil had twisted it about his hand and wrist. Now it was caught in the very flesh and almost pulling one arm from its socket, as he tried to make his own horse hold back.

Dave turned swiftly and so did the others, and for the moment there was quite a mix-up on the narrow trail, and all were in danger of losing their footing. Then they crowded to Phil's side, and while Dave caught hold of the halter, Tom Dillon and Roger caught the falling horse with the outfit.

"Turn him around—this way!" yelled the old miner, and, old as he was, he showed a wonderful strength in shoving the falling horse back to a firmer footing. The loose stones went clattering over the cliff in a shower, and more than one horse snorted in fright.

It was a moment of dire peril and it looked as if somebody, or at least one of the animals, must go over into that yawning chasm below. A stone was flung up by a hoof, hitting Dave in the cheek. But he retained his hold on the halter and pulled for all he was worth. Then came another struggle, and at last the horse with the outfit stood on the safe portion of the dangerous trail; and the peril was at an end.

"Oh!" gasped Phil, and for the moment that was all he was able to say.

"Give me that halter," said Tom Dillon. "I'll lead him while we are on this narrow part of the trail."

"Are you hurt, Phil?" asked Dave.

"I—I guess not!" was the panting answer. "But I—I sure did think I was going over there!" And the shipowner's son shuddered.

"Your cheek is cut, Dave!" cried Roger. "How did that happen?"

"Oh, it's only a scratch—made by a flying stone," was the answer. "It doesn't amount to anything."

"I didn't dream that this trail would be so dangerous," went on the senator's son. "If I had known it, I wouldn't have asked you fellows to come along."

"Oh, it's not so bad," returned Phil, hastily. "That horse was awkward—he's the worst of the bunch."

"That's right, an' they had no right to hire me such a hoss," put in Tom Dillon. "When we git back I'll give that feller who did it a piece o' my mind. I tole him I wanted critters used to the mountain trails. The hosses we are ridin' are all right, but this one, he's a sure tenderfoot. He ought to be in the city, behind a truck."

Soon the narrow portion of the rocky trail was left behind and then all of the boys breathed easier.

"That trail back thar is bad enough," was Tom Dillon's comment. "But ye ought to see it in the winter time, with ice an' snow on it! Then it's some travelin', believe me!"

"None for mine!" answered Phil. "I want to see the ground when I travel in a spot like that."

As soon as the trail became better they went forward at the best possible speed, for they wished, if they could, to catch up with Abe Blower and those with him.

"You don't suppose Blower would turn off of this trail?" questioned Roger, of the old miner, as they rode along.

"He couldn't turn off until he reached wot we call Talpoll Crossin'," answered Tom Dillon. "And we won't git thar until some time to-morrow."

They were climbing up a steady grade and so had to stop again and again to rest the horses. The trail wound in and out among the hills, and before the party was the big mountain.

"Stop an' I'll show you something!" cried the old miner, presently, and as they halted he pointed toward the mountain with his hand. "See that knob a stickin' out ag'in the sky?" he questioned.

"The one with the yellowish spot on it?" asked Dave.

"Yes. Well, that is where the big landslide took place an' buried the Landslide Mine an' my claim out o' sight."

All of the boys gazed with interest at the spot which, of course, was many miles away. They saw they would have to work their way over two more hills and through several hollows to get to it. Ahead they could occasionally see the trail, but not a soul was in sight.

"Look!" exclaimed Dave, as he turned to gaze below them along the trail they had been pursuing. "I can see something moving!"

"Maybe cattle," suggested Roger, after a long look.

"No, I think it is a crowd on horseback," answered our hero, after another look.

Roger had with him a small pair of field-glasses, and he had brought them forth to gaze at the mountain where the Landslide Mine had been located. Now he turned them on the distant objects Dave had discovered.

"Horsemen true enough," he said, after a look. "Three of them."

"Oh, say, do you think they can be Sol Blugg and his two cronies?" burst out Phil.

"Maybe," answered Roger. "I can't make them out from this distance."

"Let me take a look," suggested Tom Dillon, and adjusted the glasses to his eyes. "You are right—they are three men on horses. But who they are I don't know. Plenty o' miners travel this trail at one time or another."

They looked at the distant horsemen for several minutes. Then the field-glasses were put away and they continued their journey.

Nightfall found them in a district that, to the boys, was desolation itself. Rocks were on every side, with little patches of the coarsest kind of growth, brushwood, stalk-like grass, and cacti. The air was so pure and thin that it fairly made one's nose tingle to breathe it.

All were tired out—indeed the boys were so stiff from the long ride that they could scarcely climb down from their saddles. But not for the world were they going to let Tom Dillon know this. They had told the old miner that they were used to roughing it and they wanted to "make good" in his eyes.

Some brushwood was gathered and a fire started, and the horses were tethered near by. The old miner knew where there was a spring of drinkable water—something occasionally hard to find in a district full of all sorts of minerals—and soon they had some boiling for coffee. Then their outfit was unstrapped, and they prepared supper and got ready to turn in for the night.

"I wonder if we can't see something of the campfire of Abe Blower, if he is ahead," remarked Dave.

"We might have a look for it," answered Roger.

There was a tall rock just behind their camp, and this the two youths climbed, Phil saying he was too tired to stir. It was harder work than Dave and Roger had anticipated, but, once they had started, they hated to give up. Up and up and still up they went, climbing from one elevation to another by means of the rocks themselves and bits of coarse grass and brushwood.

"There, I reckon we are high enough now!" cried the senator's son, after nearly half an hour's climbing. "Anyway, I am going to stop!" And he began to pant for breath.

The two boys looked around them. The sun had sunk to rest behind the mountain in the west, and the hollows between the hills were deep in the gloom of the oncoming night. Far back on the trail they had come they saw a small fire start up.

"That must be the campfire of those three horsemen," said Dave.

"More than likely," responded his chum. "Do you see anything ahead?"

Both looked, but for a long time could see nothing. Then they caught a faint gleam from a point apparently halfway up the mountain, in the direction where the Landslide Mine was supposed to be located.

"Maybe that's Abe Blower's camp!" cried Dave, who was the first to discover the light.

"I'd like to know if Link Merwell and Job Haskers are really with him," said Roger.

"We ought to be able to catch up to them by to-morrow, so Mr. Dillon said."

"Unless Merwell and Haskers fix it so that they throw us off their trail, Roger. You know Mr. Dillon said they could branch off at Talpoll Crossing. That is where a spur of the railroad cuts in, to reach the mines on the other side of the hills—the railroad I suppose the Landslide Mine would have to use in getting out ore."

The boys watched the distant light for a while longer, and then descended to the camping spot. The others listened with interest to what they had to report.

"We'll be after 'em at sun-up," said Tom Dillon. "An' now all o' yer had better turn in an' get what rest you can."

This was sensible advice, and the three youths lost no time in following it. They turned in around the fire, which was kept burning, so as to keep away any possible prowling beasts. Tom Dillon was the last to retire, he looking to it that all of the horses were tethered.

It was just growing daylight when Dave awoke with a start. Something had aroused him—what he could not tell. He sat bolt upright, and at the same moment the old miner, who was beside him, did the same.

"What's up?" asked Tom Dillon, instinctively feeling for the pistol he carried.

"Our horses!" cried Dave. "They are running back on the trail!"

"Somebody is stealin' 'em!" roared Tom Dillon, and was on his feet on the instant.

By this time the noise had awakened Phil and Roger, and all three boys followed the old miner in arising. In the gray light of the morning they could see that their four horses were moving along the back trail on a gallop. A single man seemed to be in charge of them, on a steed of his own.

"Halt!" yelled Tom Dillon. "Halt, or I'll fire on you!" And he raised his pistol.

At this sharp command the man with the horses turned slightly to look back. He crouched low, and wore a sombrero pulled down well over his face. On the instant he rode to the front of the galloping steeds, thus getting out of range of the old miner's weapon.

"Come on, we must get our hosses!" sang out Tom Dillon, and started forward on the run. Then he let out a shrill whistle, one he knew was used for calling the animal he had been riding.

The effect of the whistle was all that could have been desired. The horse dropped to a walk and then turned back. And as Tom Dillon continued to whistle, the intelligent steed came closer and closer, until the old miner was able to grasp it by the halter.

But all this had taken valuable time, and meanwhile the other horses continued to gallop on, led by the man in front, who was now riding like the wind. Who he was they could not make out, but they strongly suspected Sol Blugg or one of his cronies.

"I'd shoot if them hosses wasn't in the way!" cried Tom Dillon, wrathfully.

"Can't you go after them?" asked Dave and Roger, in a breath.

"I can and I will!" answered the old miner. "Stay right here till I get back!" And with those words he saddled his horse with all speed, and in less than a minute later was flying down the back trail after the stolen steeds and the rascal who was making off with them.



CHAPTER XIX

THE NEWSPAPER CLEW

"Do you think he'll catch that fellow?"

It was Phil who asked the question, as he and Dave and Roger watched the old miner disappear around a bend of the back trail.

"I don't know about that," returned Dave. "But if he gets the horses back it will be something."

"I should say yes!" cried the senator's son. "Why, we won't be able to go on unless we get them back!" he added, his face showing his worry.

"Listen!" exclaimed Roger a minute later. "Somebody is shooting!"

It was true—a shot had sounded out on the morning air. Soon it was followed by another, at a greater distance—showing that pursued and pursuer were drawing farther from the boys.

The boys walked slowly back to the campfire and commenced to stir it up, and then they finished their morning toilet. Dave heaved a deep sigh.

"I must say I don't feel much like eating," he observed.

"Oh, we might as well fix breakfast," came from Phil. "It will help to pass the time. It won't do any good to just sit around."

Fortunately their provisions were at hand, so it was an easy matter to prepare the morning meal. Before eating, however, Roger and Dave climbed the tall rock behind the camp and looked for some sign of Tom Dillon and the man he was pursuing.

"I can't see a thing," announced Roger, after a long look through the field-glasses. "Here, you try," and he handed the glasses to our hero.

For several minutes Dave surveyed the distant landscape in vain. Then he uttered a cry.

"I see them, Roger! There they go!" And he pointed excitedly with his finger.

At a distance they could not calculate they saw Tom Dillon and the rascal he was after, and also the flying horses. They were all bounding along a rocky trail, the would-be horse thief well in advance. Suddenly they saw this individual make a turn and disappear around some rocks. The free horses kept on, with the old miner after them.

"That rascal has gotten away!" announced Dave. "He has given Mr. Dillon the slip."

"Dave, do you think Mr. Dillon will catch our horses?"

"Yes—sooner or later. They are bound to stop running, to feed or to drink, and then he'll round them up. I guess all we can do is to go down and wait for him to get back."

"But those shots! What if he is wounded!"

"I hope he isn't, Roger."

They climbed down to the camp and told Phil about what they had witnessed. Then all ate breakfast slowly, meanwhile discussing the adventure from all possible standpoints.

"It was one of the Blugg crowd, I feel certain of that," said Dave. "Perhaps it was Sol Blugg himself."

Slowly the morning wore away. When the sun came up it was very hot and the youths were glad enough to draw into the shade of the rocks. Just before noon all three climbed the tall rock again, to look not only for Tom Dillon and the horses, but also for Abe Blower and those with him.

But not a soul was in sight, nor did any horses show themselves. At a distance they made out some mule deer and several goats, but that was all.

"Do you think we ought to walk along the back trail?" asked Roger, when they were getting lunch. "Mr. Dillon may need our services."

"I'll go if you want me to, Roger," answered our hero. "But he was a good distance away when we saw him through the glasses."

"Let us wait awhile—until the awful heat of the midday sun is over," suggested Phil. "The sunshine just now is enough to give one a sun-stroke."

It was a little after three o'clock when the three lads prepared to walk along the back trail, on the lookout for the old miner. But just as they started Dave put up his hand.

"Listen!"

All did so, and from a distance heard the clatter of horses' hoofs on the rocky trail. Then came a cheery call.

"It's Mr. Dillon!" cried Roger, and let out a call in return, and the others did likewise.

Soon the old miner appeared around a bend of the trail. He was seated on his own steed and driving the others in front of him. He looked tired out, and the horses looked the same.

"Are you all right, Mr. Dillon?" sang out Dave, as he ran forward to stop the nearest horse.

"All right, boys!" was the answer. "That is, I will be as soon as I've rested a bit. I've had some ride, believe me!"

Roger and Phil helped Dave to secure the free horses and tether them, and our hero held the old miner's steed while he fairly tumbled to the ground. The horse was in a heavy lather, and Mr. Dillon was covered with dust.

"You weren't shot, were you?" questioned the senator's son, anxiously.

"No, although I come putty nigh to it," was the answer, and the old miner pointed to a hole through the brim of the hat he wore. "The skunk fired twict at me!"

"We heard two shots," said Dave. "We were afraid you might be in trouble. If we had had horses we would have followed you."

"I did better nor he did," went on the old miner, with a satisfied ring in his voice. "I plugged him in the arm."

"You did!" exclaimed Phil. "We heard only two shots!"

"I fired later on, after he left the trail. He was just gittin' ready to aim his gun ag'in when I caught him. His arm went down like lead, an' the gun dropped to the ground; so I know I winged him. He didn't shoot no more, only got into the timber quick as he could. Then I rounded up the hosses an' started back."

"Who was it, do you know?" questioned Dave.

"It was Ham Staver. I suppose Sol Blugg and Larry Jaley sent him ahead to steal the hosses. They thought it would be easy, with us asleep."

"It came pretty near being so," answered Dave, gravely.

Tom Dillon was glad enough to rest, and to partake of the hearty meal the boys prepared for him. The horses were cared for, and the boys were pleased to learn that they had not suffered through the wild run along the rocky trail.

"If that Staver shows himself around Butte I'll settle accounts with him," said the old miner, while eating. "But I reckon he'll stay away for a while."

After an hour's rest the old miner announced that he was ready to go forward once more. The sun was now well in the west, and it was not near so hot as it had been in the middle of the day.

"I wish we could catch up to the Blower party by to-night," said Roger, earnestly. "Mr. Dillon, do you think we can do it?"

"We can try, lad. But you must remember, we'll have to favor the hosses a leetle. They have had a mighty hard run on't."

"I know. Well, don't go any further than you deem wise."

For the distance of half a mile the trail was comparatively good. But then they came to an uneven locality, filled with dangerous holes and pitfalls.

"Careful here, boys!" cried Tom Dillon. "We don't want none o' the hosses to break a leg."

He was in the lead, and under his guidance they advanced slowly. At the top of a short rise of ground he came to a halt.

"Here is where part o' that landslide occurred," he announced, pointing with his hand. "I think myself it was somethin' of an earthquake, although the scientific sharps say not. But if it wasn't an earthquake it was mighty queer that it hit this spot and the other at the same time—both bein' miles apart."

"Perhaps the shock of the falling rocks at one place shook the other," suggested Dave.

"Perhaps, lad. It's a mystery—an' I suppose it will remain a mystery. We know some things about Nater, but there's others she keeps putty well hid."

They went down on the other side of the rise, and then commenced to mount an even larger hill—the last but one, so the old miner told the boys. Far in the distance they could make out the railroad tracks, winding along through the mountains. The sun was setting, and the western sky was aflame with varied colors of most gorgeous hues.

"What a beautiful sunset!" murmured Dave.

Soon the gloom of evening commenced to settle about them. All had their eyes ahead, but so far they had seen no trace of the Blower party.

"Wait a minute!" cried Dave, presently. He had seen something white fluttering among the rocks on the side of the trail.

"What do you see?" asked Phil.

"A newspaper."

"Oh, let it go, Dave. We have all the old newspapers we want."

"I want to see how recent it is," was our hero's reply.

He got down, walked to where the paper rested in a crevice, and drew it forth.

"It's a copy of a mining journal," he announced, as he looked the sheet over. "The issue for last week," he added, gazing at the date. "It's full of grease, too,—that's why they threw it away."

"Do you suppose it belonged to Abe Blower?" questioned Roger, coming up.

"It did!" cried Dave. He had turned to the front page of the paper. "See, here is Abe Blower's name and address, stamped on for mailing purposes. He got it through the mail just before he left and took it along to wrap something in."

"Then that proves we are on the right trail!" cried Roger, joyfully. "I wonder how long ago it was when he threw the paper away?"

"I'm not detective enough to tell you that, Roger," answered Dave, with a grin. "But it's something to know we are on the right trail. They might have taken to that cross trail, you know. We'll catch up to them sooner or later."

Once more our friends went forward, this time along the very edge of the new ridge that had shown itself after the great landslide. They had to advance with caution, for loose stones were numerous and so were dangerous holes.

"We can't go much further to-night," announced Tom Dillon; presently. "This trail ain't safe in the dark."

"All right, Mr. Dillon, we'll stop when you say so," returned Roger, with a bit of a sigh. "How much further to where the Landslide Mine was located?"

"Not over two miles, as the crows fly, lad; but four to five miles by the trail."

They went into camp in the very midst of the rocks. Strange as it may seem, there was water there, coming from a tiny spring under a huge boulder. It had a somewhat unpleasant odor, and the horses at first refused it, but the old miner said it was drinkable.

"Only you don't want to live on it all the year around," he added, with a grin. "A doctor onct tole me if you did that you might turn into stone!"

"I know what I am going to do, as soon as it gets dark enough," said Dave to his chums, while they were preparing supper.

"What?" asked the other boys.

"I am going to look for the campfire of that crowd ahead."

"Of course!" cried Roger. "And, Dave, if it isn't too far off, maybe we can walk to it!" he added, quickly.

"So I was thinking."

Eagerly the three boys waited for the darkness of night to fall, in the meanwhile getting supper and tidying up the camp. Then they climbed to the top of the highest rock that was at hand and looked around them.

"I see a fire!" cried Dave, and pointed it out.

"Yes, and it looks to be less than a mile away!" returned Roger.

"Let's walk to it!" put in Phil.

And on this plan the three chums quickly agreed.



CHAPTER XX

THE EXPOSURE

When Tom Dillon heard about the light that had been seen and the determination to walk to it, he wanted to know how far off it was.

"If it's that close we had better all go," he announced, after being told. "If it's Abe Blower's camp it must be in a good spot, for Abe knows this locality as good as I do and maybe better. A mile isn't so far. We can walk an' lead the hosses, if we have to."

Less than quarter of an hour later found them on the way. The old miner was in front, with Roger beside him, and Dave and Phil bringing up the rear. All were on foot, for they had to pick their way in the darkness, which seemed more intense than it had been on previous nights.

"The sky is overcast," observed Dave, as they trudged along the uncertain, rocky trail. "Looks to me like rain."

"We'll catch it sooner or later," announced Tom Dillon. "And maybe we'll have a big blow in the bargain."

"Then it blows up here?" queried Roger.

"Does it? I should say yes, lad! I've been in such a wind up here one could hardly keep his feet. And the rain comes so thick an' fast it nigh drowns you!"

As they advanced, they kept their eyes on the alert for the distant campfire. Twice they found and lost it, but, as they came around another spur of rocks they beheld it quite plainly and saw several figures moving around it.

"Wait!" called Dave, to the others. "If that is Abe Blower's camp, and Merwell and Haskers are with him, I've got an idea."

"What is that?" asked Roger.

"Why not let Mr. Dillon go ahead alone, and find out what Merwell and Haskers have to say? We can sneak up in the darkness and show ourselves later."

This was considered a good plan, and, after a short discussion, it was adopted. The old miner mounted his horse and rode onward, the three boys coming after him on foot and keeping in the shadow of the rocks to one side of the uneven trail.

The clatter of the horse's hoofs on the rocks soon attracted the attention of those around the distant campfire. The three persons came forward, to see who was coming.

"Why, if it ain't Tom Dillon, of all men!" cried one of the three, and his face, that had shown anxiety, broke into a smile. "How are you, Tom, and what brings you up here?"

"I came to find you, Abe," was the old miner's reply. "They told me down in Butte you were off to have another search for the lost Landslide Mine."

"Saw Kate Carmody, I reckon," went on Abe Blower. "Yes, I'm goin' on another hunt fer the mine—account o' these two gents," and Abe Blower pointed to his companions.

"Who is this man?" asked one of the others, who had come from the campfire.

"This is Tom Dillon, one o' the best old-time miners and prospectors in Montany," answered Abe Blower, with a broad smile. "He used to know yer uncle well," he added.

"Is that so? Then—er—perhaps he can help us to locate the lost mine."

"Mebbe—if he wants to spare the time. Ye see, Tom ain't so poor as I be," explained Abe Blower. "He made his pile an' saved it, he did," he added, admiringly.

"Who are your companions, Abe?" asked Tom Dillon, rather abruptly.

"Oh, sure, excuse me fer not introducin' you," cried the other miner. "This here is Mr. Morr, son o' Senator Morr an' nevvy of Maurice Harrison, an' this is his friend, Prefesser Haskers, o' the colledge Morr ust to go to. Gents, this is Mr. Thomas Dillon, a miner an' prospector, an' one o' the richest an' best men in Butte."

"Ah, glad to know you, sir!" exclaimed Job Haskers, and held out his thin hand. But, somehow, Tom Dillon did not seem to see it and he merely bowed.

"And you are Senator Morr's son, eh?" said the old miner, turning to Link Merwell.

"I am," was the bold answer, but when the old miner looked him squarely in the eyes, Merwell had to turn his gaze away.

"I understood that Maurice Harrison, when he died, willed the Landslide Mine to your family," went on Tom Dillon.

"He did, and I and my friend are here to look for it," answered Link Merwell.

"Think you'll find it?"

"Blower here says he will do what he can to discover it," broke in Job Haskers. "He has a great reputation as a prospector."

"I will surely do my best for Maurice Harrison's nevvy," said Abe Blower. "Maurice Harrison was mighty good to me, an' I ain't the one to forgit that."

"Have you a brother?" asked Tom Dillon, turning again to Merwell.

"A brother? Why—er—no," answered the imposter, and then turned suddenly pale. "Why—er—do you ask that question?" he faltered.

"I met another young fellow in Butte named Morr."

"I—I don't know him."

"He was with two other young fellows named Porter and Lawrence."

At this unexpected announcement Link Merwell's face grew paler than ever. Job Haskers, too, showed that he was much disturbed.

"Did this—this Morr say where he was from, or where he was going?" asked the former teacher of Oak Hall.

"Oh, the whole crowd was from the East. I reckon they are coming up here," answered Tom Dillon, dryly. "They want to find you, Abe," he added, with a wink at the other miner.

"Me? What fer?"

"They want you to locate this same Landslide Mine for them."

"The same mine? Say, Tom, what are you drivin' at?" demanded Abe Blower, in astonishment.

"What I'm drivin' at is just this, Abe," answered Tom Dillon, and his voice grew suddenly stern. "This ain't Roger Morr at all. The real fellow you ain't met yet. This chap is a fraud!"

"Say—look here——" began Link Merwell.

"Is the—er—the other Morr—er—coming here?" faltered Job Haskers.

"I am not coming—I am here!" cried a voice, and Roger stepped from the shadow of a near-by rock.

The senator's son faced Link Merwell and Job Haskers, and both stared at him as if they were looking at a ghost, and backed away.

"Roger Morr!" faltered Merwell.

"Yes, Link. You didn't expect I'd follow you so soon, did you?" cried Roger. "Now, I've got a nice account to settle with you. I want to know what you did with my suit-case, and I want to know what you mean by impersonating me."

"I—I——" began Merwell, and then stopped, not knowing how to proceed.

"This is—er—very unfortunate," murmured Job Haskers. He would have retired had there been any place to retire to, which there was not.

"Say, are you Roger Morr?" gasped Abe Blower, gazing fixedly at the senator's son.

"I am. And you are Abe Blower?"

"I sure am. But see here——"

"We'll explain everything in a few minutes, Mr. Blower. These fellows are swindlers! They robbed me of my suit-case and then got ahead of me, and that fellow impersonated me," and Roger pointed to Merwell. "We hired Mr. Dillon to bring us to you—or at least he offered to come. He knows that I am the real Roger Morr, and Maurice Harrison was my mother's brother."

"Well, I never! But wot did they think to gain——"

"They wanted to locate the lost mine before I got here, that was their game. What they intended to do later I don't know, but probably Job Haskers was going to cook up some deal whereby our family could be kept out of the property. He is a rascal——"

"See here, Morr, I won't—er—have you—ahem!—talk about me in this——" commenced the former teacher.

"But I will talk about you!" interrupted Roger. "You are a rascal, almost as bad as Merwell here, and you know it."

"Yes, and we know it, don't we, Phil?" cried another voice, and Dave and Phil stepped into view.

"Porter—and Lawrence!" faltered the former teacher of Oak Hall, and he looked almost ready to drop. "I—I——" He did not know how to finish.

"Say, I want to git the straight o' this!" burst out Abe Blower.

"This young man is givin' it to you straight, Abe," replied Tom Dillon, pointing to Roger. "And these are his friends—all true blue to the core. These other fellers are first-class swindlers. They took you in good an' proper."

"If they did, they shall suffer fer it!" roared the other miner. "Do you know, I kinder suspected somethin' was wrong. They didn't act as open as honest folks should. An' they was in an all-fired hurry to git away from Butte and from Black Cat Camp."

"Because they knew we were following them," explained Dave. "Link, I guess you had better admit that the game is up," he went on, turning to his former schoolmate.

"Is it up?" sneered Link Merwell. "Well, I don't know, Dave Porter. We have as much right to hunt for that lost mine as you have."

"Oh, so that's the game, eh?" burst out Roger.

"You had no right to impersonate Roger," asserted our hero. "He can have you arrested for that."

"Huh, that was—er—only done for—er—fun," faltered Link Merwell. "And as for your old suit-case, it's on check at the Glenrose Hotel in Butte, and there's the check for it," and he drew the brass disc from his pocket and passed it over to the senator's son.

"Why did you take my suit-case?"

"Oh, for fun."

"He took it thinking he was going to get your map!" cried Dave. "Link, what makes you act as you do?" went on our hero, earnestly. "When I helped you on Cave Island you promised that you were going to reform."

"What's the use of reforming?" burst out the other. "Everybody in this world is down on me! I don't dare to show my face wherever I am known! There is a warrant out for my arrest!" And Link Merwell's face showed his bitterness.

While the boys were talking Abe Blower and Tom Dillon had been conversing together. Job Haskers was left in the cold, and he looked much disturbed. Evidently he was thinking how foolish he had been to come to Montana with Merwell.

"So this is the trick yer played on me, consarn ye!" cried Abe Blower, coming from the other miner to Haskers. "I've a good mind to take it out of yer hide!" And he shook his fist in the former teacher's face.

"Don't you touch me—don't you dare!" howled Job Haskers, in new alarm, and he backed away so hastily that he tripped over some of the camp outfit and went flat on his back.

The accident was such a comical one that Dave and his chums laughed outright, and Tom Dillon and Abe Blower grinned broadly. Link Merwell reached down and assisted the former teacher to his feet. Job Haskers's face was sourness itself.

"Stop that! Don't you dare to laugh at me!" he roared. "Don't you dare!"

"We'll laugh as much as we please," answered Dave, boldly.

"I—I guess we had better get out of here," whispered Link Merwell, nervously. "They—they might take it into their heads to harm us."

"Do you think so?" asked Job Haskers. "All right, I—I am ready to go. But how are we to find our way back to the town?" he asked, helplessly.

"We'll have to follow the back trail," answered Link Merwell. Being used to ranch life, this being in the open did not daunt him as it did the former teacher. "Come on, let us get our horses and be off!" the youth added. "It is getting too hot for us here!"



CHAPTER XXI

ON THE BACK TRAIL

"Just you two wait a minute!"

It was Tom Dillon who uttered the words, as he saw Link Merwell and Job Haskers turn to where their horses were tethered.

"You bet they'll wait!" exploded Abe Blower, wrathfully. He stepped forward and seized Merwell by the arm. "What do you mean by playing such a trick as this on me?"

"Le—let go of me!" cried the youth, in fear. "Let go. I—I—didn't I say it was only done in fun?"

"Fun? You won't think it's fun when I git through with you!"

"I—ahem! I think this whole matter can be settled amicably," put in Job Haskers, with an effort. "I am satisfied now that we made a—er—a mistake. But, as Merwell states, it was all done in a—er—a spirit of fun."

"And now you want to sneak off—without even paying me for my trouble!" cried Abe Blower.

"You said you'd come with me for nothing," returned Link Merwell, and his voice had almost a whine in it.

"So I did, thinkin' you was Maurice Harrison's nevvy. If I had known you was an outsider I wouldn't have come at all. I've got my own affairs to 'tend to. But bein' as I did come, you're goin' to pay me for my time and trouble," went on the miner, sharply.

"Don't you want 'em arrested, Abe?" put in Tom Dillon. "As I understand it, this here Merwell feller is wanted by the police as it is."

"Oh, don't arrest me! Please don't do that!" cried Link Merwell. He turned to Dave and his chums. "Let me go, won't you? I—I didn't do anything. I didn't take a thing out of your suit-case," he added, to Roger.

His manner was so humble and he seemed so full of terror, that the boys could not help feeling sorry for him, even though they realized that he was a criminal and should be in the hands of the law.

"What do you think we ought to do, Dave?" whispered the senator's son, pulling our hero to one side.

"That is up to you, Roger."

"If we make them prisoners what can we do with them? They will only bother us in the search for the lost mine."

"I think I'd make them pay Abe Blower for his trouble and then let them go."

"Yes, but they have got to promise not to bother us in the future," put in Phil, who had followed Dave and Roger to a distance.

"They'll promise that, Phil. But you know what their promises are worth," answered our hero.

A hot war of words followed, Abe Blower and Tom Dillon telling the two rascals just what they thought of their conduct. Link Merwell was badly scared, and the former teacher of Oak Hall looked very much disturbed.

"Well, I'll let you go, if the young gents say so," said Abe Blower, finally. "But you have got to pay me fer my services in bringin' you out here, an' you've got to put up fer them hosses you're to ride, so I'll know they'll git back to town all right."

"We'll return the horses, never fear," said Link Merwell.

"Maybe—but I won't take no chances. You put up the price o' them, an' I'll give yer a written order fer your money, to be paid to you by Hank Davis, when he gits the hosses," said Abe Blower.

More words followed, but the miner was obdurate, and in the end Link Merwell and Job Haskers had to put up nearly all the cash they had with them. Then they were allowed to take the two horses they had ridden and a small portion of the camping outfit—just enough to see them safely back to the nearest town.

"Now remember, Link," said Dave, on parting with the youth, "you have promised to leave us alone in the future. See that you keep that promise."

"If you don't, we'll be down on you like a ton of bricks," added Phil.

"I won't bother you again," said Link Merwell, with downcast eyes. "I—I guess I was a fool to go into this."

Job Haskers said little. But when he looked at our friends it was with an expression as if he wanted to eat them up. He was in a great rage, but he did not dare to show it. In utter silence he and Merwell mounted their steeds and rode out of the camp, on the back trail. Not once did they look behind. Soon the gloom of the night swallowed them up.

"A 'good riddance to bad rubbish,'" quoted Phil. "My, what a fool Link is!"

"And Haskers is just as bad," said Roger.

"Link has the making of a fine fellow in him," said Dave, with a sigh. "But he evidently prefers to be bad rather than good."

"Thet's the way with some fellers," remarked Abe Blower. "I've seen it in minin' camps many times. A feller would slide in, an' he could make money diggin' fer gold. But instead o' doin' it, he would jest fool away his time gamblin' an' drinkin'. It's awful—the way some folks act."

"They won't have any easy time of it, getting back to Butte," said Dave. "Perhaps they'll meet that Sol Blugg crowd on the way."

"Oh, don't say that!" cried Roger. "Why, they might side right in with Blugg!"

"So they might," added Phil. "A case of 'birds of a feather,' you know."

"And so you are the real Roger Morr," said Abe Blower, catching Roger by the shoulder and looking him squarely in the eyes. "Wall, I must say I like yer looks a heap better nor I did the bogus one!" And he chuckled, broadly.

"I am glad you do, Mr. Blower. I——"

"Now, stop right thar, lad, stop right thar! Ef you're goin' to be my friend call me plain Blower, or Abe."

"As you will, Abe. I'm real glad to meet you, and I am sure we are going to get along first-rate together," said Roger, and then the pair shook hands once more.

"You must tell me all about yourself, and your friends, an' about them two skunks as was wantin' to git in ahead o' you."

"I'll do that gladly," returned the senator's son. And then all in the camp gathered around the fire, to talk the situation over and arrange their plans for the morrow.

In the meantime Link Merwell and Job Haskers rode along the rocky trail leading in the direction of Black Cat Camp. As long as they were within hearing of those left behind neither said a word, but once at a distance Job Haskers fairly exploded.

"Now you see what a plight you have brought us into!" he snarled. "Here we are miles and miles from anywhere, and with hardly a dollar in our pockets! It's a shame! If I had remained in the East, selling mining stock, or something like that, instead of going on this wild-goose chase——"

"I didn't know they were so close behind us," whined Link Merwell. "I thought we would get off the regular trail before they came to this locality."

"We were off the trail—it's the campfire told them where," went on the former teacher. "Now, what are we going to do when we get back to town, tell me that?"

"We'll get our money for the horses first," replied Link Merwell. He grated his teeth. "I wish I could get back at them!" he cried.

"So do I, Merwell. But it can't be done—at least, I am not coming back to this forlorn district, once I get to town again. And it looks dangerous to me, with all these loose rocks ready to slide down into the valley," added Job Haskers.

Full of bitterness, and trying to plan out what to do later on, the pair continued on the back trail, moving slowly and with caution. At last, completely tired out, they reached the spot where Dave and his chums had stopped for supper. The campfire still smoldered among some rocks, for in such a barren district it was not necessary to be careful for fear of a conflagration.

"We'll rest here," declared Job Haskers, sliding from his saddle. He was not used to riding and was so sore and stiff he could hardly move.

"All right," responded Merwell, and alighted also. They found the spring and drank eagerly of the somewhat bitter water. Then they stirred up the fire and proceeded to make themselves as much at home as possible.

But human nature can stand only so much, and soon, instead of talking over their affairs, each sought forgetfulness in slumber. Exhausted, they slept soundly until the sun came up. Then, eating a frugal breakfast—for their stores were scanty—they continued on the way in the direction of Black Cat Camp.

It was less than two hours later, when, coming around a turn in the trail, they came in sight of another camp. They found three men seated in the shadow of some rocks, for the day was becoming warm, all talking earnestly. One man had his right arm in a sling.

"I wonder who they are?" remarked Link Merwell, as he and his companion came to a halt.

"Wait, don't let them see us until you are sure they will be friendly," cautioned Job Haskers. "For all you know they may be some of those dreaded road-agents one reads about in the newspapers. We don't want to be robbed, or have our horses stolen."

"They certainly look like a hard crowd," whispered Merwell. "But I don't think you'll find road-agents here,—not enough folks to rob."

The men were talking earnestly and had not noticed the approach of the pair. As quietly as possible, Merwell and Haskers drew to one side and dismounted. Then the boy who had spent so much time on his father's ranch, motioned for the former teacher of Oak Hall to follow him.

"We'll crawl up and listen to a little of their talk," he whispered. "That will soon tell us if we can trust them. If we can't, we'll go around them—although I don't see any other trail among the rocks."

Job Haskers nodded, and slowly and cautiously the pair crawled over the rocks until they gained a position close to the three men. Then they settled back, to listen to whatever might be said.

Inside of half an hour Link Merwell and Job Haskers gained all the information they desired. They learned that the three men were Sol Blugg and his cohorts. The wounded man was Staver, and he had been shot through the hand by Tom Dillon. He was very angry and willing to do almost anything to square accounts. The men were sure that the Dillon party and the Blower party were on the trail of a new find of gold and wanted to get in "on the ground floor," as they expressed it.

"They can't do nuthin' to me about tryin' to git the hosses," said Staver. "It's only Dillon's word against mine—an' you all know I got shot in the hand by accident," and he winked suggestively.

"Sure, I done that myself," said Blugg, and laughed. "Nobody took their hosses—so far as we know."

"I guess the new strike o' gold must be near the old Landslide Mine," said Larry Jaley. "Maybe it's the old mine itself."

"We'll soon know, if we watch 'em close enough," returned Sol Blugg. And then they continued to talk, while Staver dressed his wounded hand, which, fortunately for him, was not very badly hurt.

Link Merwell caught Job Haskers by the arm and pulled him back.

"I've got an idea!" he whispered, his eyes brightening with sudden expectation. "Why can't we join these men and go after the Morr crowd with them? It will give us a chance to get back at those fellows."

"No, I've had enough of this business," replied the former teacher of Oak Hall. "I am going back to town as fast as I can, and then to the East."

"Yes, but——" began Link, when he stopped short. Haskers's foot had shoved a round stone and now this rattled over the rocks, creating considerable noise.

"Who's that!" roared Sol Blugg, and leaped to his feet, drawing his pistol as he did so. "Ho, look there! Hands up, or I'll fire!" he yelled, as he discovered those who had been in hiding.



CHAPTER XXII

DAVE AND THE MOUNTAIN LION

"Don't fire, I beg of you! We—we are friends! Don't fire! Please put down that pistol, do!"

It was Job Haskers who called out in this fashion, as he raised his hands high in the air. He was seized with a chill, and shook from head to foot.

Link Merwell was also agitated, and for the instant tried to back away. Perhaps, now that Sol Blugg had spoken so harshly, the youth realized that he was not such a kind-hearted fellow as Abe Blower had proved to be.

"Come out here, where we can see you!" cried Blugg. "Larry, got yer pistol?"

"I sure have," responded Larry Jaley, with a wicked grin.

"There is no need to do any shooting," said Link Merwell.

"You were spyin' on us," growled Staver.

"Who are you? Come here and give an account o' yourselves," ordered Sol Blugg.

There was no help for it now, and, rather awkwardly, with their hands still upraised, Job Haskers and Link Merwell stumbled over the rocks to where the three men had been resting and talking.

"Humph, a tenderfoot!" muttered the leader of the trio, as he inspected the former teacher of Oak Hall. "I don't reckon he's goin' to do us any harm." He turned to Merwell. "Who are you, sonny?"

Link told him and also mentioned Haskers's name. "I was just coming forward to introduce myself," he added.

"How kind," sneered Larry Jaley, with a mock bow.

"I was. We stepped behind the rocks to find out what sort of men you were. And I guess you are just our kind," added Merwell, with a sickly grin.

"How so?" demanded Sol Blugg, sharply. "No game, now."

"I'll give it to you straight," answered Link Merwell. "Can I put down my hands? It's not comfortable to talk with them up in the air."

"All right,—and fire away," answered the leader of the men.

"We overheard what you said about the Abe Blower party and the Tom Dillon party," pursued Merwell. "We were with Abe Blower, but the other crowd came up and made it hot for us, and we got out. You said something about their being here to locate gold. So they are, and now that we are on the outs with those other people, if you say the word, we'll go in with you. Isn't that right, Haskers?" asked Link, coolly.

"I—I presume so," answered the former teacher, nervously. He had dropped his hands, but Sol Blugg still had his weapon handy, and the sight of it was far from comforting.

"Had a row, did ye?" asked Blugg, curiously.

"Yes. You see, Blower wanted to run things to suit himself and we—er—we didn't see things quite that way. Then Dillon came up with his crowd, and they made matters worse than ever. We had some information that we didn't want the others to have, so we got out," went on Link Merwell, glibly. He was now recovering from his fright.

"Got information, have ye?" cried Larry Jaley. "About wot fer instance?"

"About what those fellows are after," answered Merwell. "Isn't that so?" he asked, of Haskers.

"It is," answered the former teacher.

"Is it another gold strike?" burst out Sol Blugg, eagerly.

"Not exactly a strike," answered Merwell. "All of us came out to relocate the lost Landslide Mine."

"What! That mine!" yelled Staver, and the tone of his voice showed his deep disgust. "Nuthin' to it—nuthin' at all. If you're arfter thet mine ye might as well go right back home. It's buried deep an' fer good."

"Let us hear what they have to tell," said Sol Blugg. "They may have news worth listenin' to, Ham."

"I ain't goin' to waste no time lookin' fer thet lost mine," growled the rascal who had been shot. "I'm goin' back to town an' let a doctor look at this hand o' mine."

"And I will go with you!" put in Job Haskers, eagerly. "I have had enough of the mountains! The others can locate that lost mine if they wish."

"See here, you fellers sit down an' we'll talk this thing over," said Sol Blugg. "If you've got Blower an' Dillon interested in lookin' fer the lost mine there must be somethin' in it wuth knowin'. Might be as you've got a new lead, or somethin'."

"I'll tell you what I know," answered Link Merwell.

He and Haskers, after bringing in their horses, sat down, and a talk lasting the best part of an hour followed. The men from Butte asked many questions, and wanted to know about the map and papers Roger was carrying. Blugg and Jaley were evidently much impressed.

"You are right about one thing, Merwell," he said. "That mine is now teetotally lost—the claim was shifted by the landslide. If we could relocate the mine I think we could make our claim to it good at the land office."

"Let us try it!" cried Merwell, eagerly. "We have as much chance to do it as the Morr crowd."

"But he has that map, and the directions."

"We overheard all their talk, so I know as much as Roger Morr does. As for Blower and Dillon, they don't know this district any better than you men do, do they?"

"Not much better," answered Larry Jaley. "We've been here a good many years." He turned to Staver. "What do you say, now?"

"Wall, wot this young feller says puts a different look on the situation," replied the man who had been shot. "I'd like to have an interest in thet mine myself—thet or the one Tom Dillon onct said he had near it. An' as Sol says, if we relocated the claim, maybe we could hold it at the land office—anyway, we could claim a fat slice o' the wuth o' it."

"We'd claim it all!" cried Merwell.

"So we would!" came from Sol Blugg. "Say, sonny, you're the right kind, I reckon, an' we'll call ourselves friends," he added, and put out his hand to Link.

"Then we are—ahem!—not going back to town?" queried Job Haskers, in disappointed tones.

"No, we'll watch those other fellers an' try to locate the lost mine," answered Sol Blugg; and this was finally agreed to, after a discussion lasting another half-hour. Job Haskers was plainly disappointed, and his face showed it, and Link Merwell had much difficulty in cheering up the former teacher.

"We came out to locate that gold mine and we'll do it," said Merwell. "And I want you to be on hand, when the time comes, to attend to the legal end of it, so that we get our share. Of course, as I am wanted by the police, I can't appear, but you can, and you can, secretly, represent me."

"All provided the lost mine is found," responded Job Haskers. He had plainly lost heart in the undertaking.

"Oh, we are bound to locate it—sooner or later," said Link Merwell, enthusiastically.

While this plotting was going on, Roger and those with him were picking their way with care over the loose stones that covered the ridge of rocks where the great landslide had taken place. Here traveling was exceedingly dangerous and often they had to proceed on foot, for fear of going down into some hollow. None of the footing seemed to be safe, and more than once Tom Dillon shook his head doubtfully.

"This land ain't got settled yet," he said to Abe Blower. "I shouldn't be surprised if there was another landslide before long."

"Mebbe you're right, Tom," was Blower's reply. "But if it's to come, I hope it comes arter we're away."

"I was thinkin' that maybe we had better go over to the second ridge. It might be safer."

"I was thinkin' that myself."

"Then we'll git over as soon as we hit a good crossin-over place," replied Tom Dillon.

As they were now close to the spot where the Landslide Mine was supposed to have been located, Roger became very eager to do some real searching for the mine. And Dave and Phil were equally anxious to aid their chum.

Coming to something of a plateau of rocks, the party spread out, searching for certain landmarks which Abe Blower had mentioned. This search was by no means easy, for some of the loose rocks were very large in size—one being as big as a house—and it was difficult to find one's way along among them.

Dave was riding along slowly, letting his horse find the best footing possible, when he came to a narrow defile. The rocks were on both sides, and most of them sticking up from five to ten feet above his head.

"It wouldn't be any fun if some of those loose rocks came down on a fellow's head, or on his horse," mused our hero, as he moved along. "I wonder where this way leads to?"

At a distance he could hear the others talking, so he knew they were not far off. They, too, were now among the big rocks, and each hidden from the others. Then the talking gradually ceased, giving way to an occasional call or whistle.

"Oh, if only I could just stumble into the entrance to that mine!" thought Dave. "What a fine thing it would be for Roger and his family! I know they need the money!"

He kept his eyes on the alert, but none of the signs for which he was searching appeared, nor did anything that looked like a mine entrance show itself.

It was growing towards sunset when Dave, who had just met Phil and separated from him, came to another rocky defile, this time leading to something of a hollow. Here the air was damp and cool and our hero paused for a moment, for he felt tired and hot after the hard riding of the day.

"Wonder where we will camp for to-night," he mused, as he gazed around him. "I hope we find some nicer spot than this. This looks so lonely and spookish. Well, I suppose I've got to go on, or they'll get ahead of me, and it would be no fun to get lost. A fellow——"

Dave came to a stop in his musings and also drew up his horse. He had taken but a few steps farther, and now saw, to one side of the rocky defile, a small opening, leading into a sort of hill.

"Looks as if it might be a kind of cave," he told himself. "I guess I'd better dismount and take a look inside. It might be the entrance to the lost mine!"

Suiting the action to the word, Dave leaped from his horse, and letting the steed stand, approached the cave. The entrance was comparatively small and he had to stoop down to peer inside.

As he did this there came a sudden ominous growl from the interior of the cave. It was the growl of a wild beast and caused the youth to leap back in alarm. Then a slinking body came into view and a full-sized mountain lion showed himself!

Dave ran toward his horse. But as the mountain lion gave another growl, the horse snorted and plunged, in sudden fright. Then the steed took to his heels and went clattering along the rocky defile.

"Stop!" yelled the youth. "Stop!" And then he set up a call for assistance.

At the sound of his voice, the mountain lion paused, just outside the entrance of the cave. Evidently he did not wish to become trapped in such narrow quarters. He eyed Dave with glaring eyeballs, and showed his gleaming teeth. His tail began to switch from side to side, and he crouched low, as if contemplating a spring at the boy.



CHAPTER XXIII

IN THE MOUNTAIN CAVE

Dave had been in perilous situations before, and had learned the important lesson that if he lost his wits all would be lost. The mountain lion was large and powerful and evidently in full fighting humor.

The youth was armed, carrying a pistol by Tom Dillon's orders. Now, as he backed against the nearest rock, he drew the weapon and pointed it at the beast.

The mountain lion crouched still lower and the tail of the creature moved from side to side with greater swiftness. Dave felt that in another second or two the beast would make a leap for him.

In the semi-darkness of the rocky defile he could see the lion but indistinctly. But the two eyes were glaring at him and on one of these he centered his aim as best he could.

As he pulled the trigger of the pistol the mountain lion jumped at him. Crack! went the weapon, echoing loudly in that confined space. The bullet missed the beast's head and buried itself in the shoulder. As Dave fired he leaped to one side.

It was well that our hero made that move, otherwise the mountain lion must have come down directly on top of him. As it was the beast fell at his side, snarling and snapping fiercely, and turning in an effort to ascertain what that thing was which was burning him in the shoulder.

Crack! the pistol sounded out again, and this time the mountain lion was hit in the neck. Over and over he rolled, but got quickly to his feet, and, wounded as he was, prepared for another spring at our hero.

Again Dave fired, but this time his aim was not so true, and the bullet, grazing the lion's tail, struck a rock with a sharp click. Then the savage creature hurled himself straight for Dave's breast.

Bang! bang! It was the double report from a huge, old-fashioned horse-pistol that Tom Dillon carried. The old miner had come clattering to the spot on horseback and with a single glance had taken in the situation. The leap of the mountain lion was stayed, and with a final snarl the beast rolled over and over, disappearing of a sudden into the opening of the cave Dave had discovered.

"Are you hurt, lad?" asked the old miner, after he had waited anxiously for several seconds for the mountain lion to reappear.

"Not in the—the least," was our hero's panting answer. "But it—it was a close call!" and he shuddered. "Do you think he's dead?"

"I shouldn't wonder. You hit him, didn't you?"

"Yes, twice. But they couldn't have been very good shots, or he wouldn't have come for me again."

"Mountain lions is mighty tough, lad. I've seen one with six bullets in him still show fight. Load up, as quick as you can. His mate may be around."

This advice was, however, unnecessary for Dave was already recharging the empty chambers of the pistol. From his Uncle Dunston he had learned years before the advisability of keeping one's weapon ready for use at all times.

The sound of the shots had called the others of the party to the scene, and numerous were the questions asked.

"Wow! a mountain lion!" cried Phil. "And did you kill him, Dave?"

"I don't know whether he is dead. Mr. Dillon and I both hit him, and he flopped around here until he slid down into that hole yonder."

"Maybe he isn't dead yet," suggested Roger.

"Even so, being badly wounded, he'll stick to his shelter," said Abe Blower. "Say," he went on, "thet looks like a putty good sized cave!"

"Just what I was thinking," returned Dave. "I was going to have a look inside, when that mountain lion growled and sprang out at me."

"We'll light some torches, and take a look at the place," suggested old Tom Dillon.

"Oh, supposing it's an entrance to that lost mine!" cried Phil.

"It would be great!" added the senator's son, enthusiastically.

"I hardly think it could be thet," put in Abe Blower. "But if the cave is long enough, it might lead to one o' the shafts as was sunk fer the mine; eh, Tom?"

"That's true," responded the old miner.

"I've got my electric torch with me," said Roger, bringing that useful article from his pocket. "We can use that in the cave."

"The light wouldn't be strong enough, an' steady enough," answered Abe Blower. "We'll have to have regular torches, and plenty of 'em, too. Caves like thet are often full o' holes, an' ye might step into one an' fall down to Chiny, or somewhere else," and he smiled, grimly.

The old miners had picked up some sticks for torches on the way, thinking they might come in useful for firewood if for nothing else, and several of these were now lit and swung into a lively blaze.

"No use of all of us goin' in there," said Abe Blower.

"No, somebody has got to stay here an' watch the hosses," answered Tom Dillon.

A brief discussion followed, and it was agreed that Abe Blower and Roger and Dave should go down into the opening, leaving Tom Dillon and Phil to guard the animals and the camping outfit. Possibly the shipowner's son was disappointed by this arrangement, but if so he did not show it.

"It might not take more'n a few minutes to look into the cave," said Abe Blower. "An' then ag'in, it might take some hours. But, no matter how big the hole is, we won't be gone more'n two hours, Tom;" and so it was decided.

As they entered the cave—for such it really proved to be—they held their torches over their heads and looked anxiously for the mountain lion.

"I don't see anything of his majesty," said Roger, in almost a whisper, for the strange adventure had set his nerves on an edge.

"Oh, I suppose he had life enough left to crawl quite a distance," answered Dave.

The cave was irregular in shape, forming something of an underground split in the rocks. The flooring led steadily downward, with here and there an opening of unknown depth.

"A good place to prospect," said Abe Blower, as he flashed his torch over the rocky walls.

"Do you imagine there is gold in those rocks?" asked Dave.

"Might be, lad, an' silver, too. But there might not be enough to make it pay to git it out."

"I see the mountain lion!" cried Roger, a minute later. "There he is, in yonder corner, in his den. And look, it's his mate!"

All gazed and not far distant beheld a scene that touched their hearts. On the rocks lay the dead lion and over him stood his mate, licking his face with her rough tongue.

"Look out!" cried Abe Blower, and drew his horse-pistol—a companion weapon to that carried by Tom Dillon. "She'll come fer us, sure!"

The old miner was right. Swiftly the lioness turned, and set up a savage roar that echoed and reechoed throughout the cavern. Then, in spite of the torches—for all savage beasts are afraid of fire—she prepared to fight those she felt had slain the one she loved.

It was Abe Blower who fired first, and scarcely had the sound of the shot died away when Roger and Dave pulled trigger. Over and over whirled the lioness, and then of a sudden struck one of the wide cracks in the flooring of the cave and disappeared from view. They heard the body strike on some rocks far below; and then all became silent.

"Oh, wasn't that awful!" gasped Roger, and felt of his forehead, where the cold perspiration had gathered.

"I—I kind of hated to do it," answered Dave. "She was mourning over her mate!"

"Shall we send the other body down, too?" went on the senator's son.

"Might as well," was the quick answer, and soon the other lion was dragged to the opening and dropped down. Abe Blower looked on at the work and smiled grimly.

"I suppose ye are sorry for thet lioness, but I ain't," he said. "They are wicked critters, I can tell ye, an' they do a whole lot o' damage."

"I suppose they live according to their nature," replied Dave, softly. In his mind's eye he could still see the tawny lioness licking the face of her dead mate.

On they went again. The cave was narrow here but presently broadened out. The roof was, for the most part, less than ten feet high, so the boys felt just as if they were "walking between big pie crusts," as Roger quaintly expressed it. The cave seemed to be dry, although when they stopped once more to look around, they heard the distant gurgle of a stream of water.

"Wall, I can't see as it looks anythin' like a mine," announced Abe Blower, presently. "Nothin' like a shaft around here."

"I wonder how long the cave is?" came from Dave. "It must end somewhere."

"Say, wouldn't this make a good place to camp out in?" asked Roger, of the old miner.

"Not much!" was the quick answer.

"Why not? It would be cool in the daytime and warm at night, with a little campfire."

"Maybe, lad. But wot if some o' these rocks should shift? They'd squash ye as flat as a flapjack!"

"I didn't think of that."

"I don't believe it is very safe in here," said Dave. "This cave must have been formed by that landslide, and, if so, perhaps the dirt and rocks haven't finished settling yet. I don't want any rocks to come down on my head!"

"Nor on any of us!" added the senator's son.

"I've got an idee thet we are a-comin' to another openin'," remarked Abe Blower, a few minutes later, after they had made a sharp turn to the right.

"Why so?" asked Roger.

"I kin feel some fresh air from somewhere."

"I feel it too," returned Dave. "Doesn't it come from overhead?"

"Mebbe, lad; although I thought it was ahead."

"Here is that stream of water!" cried Roger, as they made another turn. "But we can't get at it," he added, somewhat disappointedly.

"Why?"

"It's down below the split in the rocks. Look!"

He held up his torch so they could look down into something of a sharp-edged basin of rocks. A dozen feet below they could see the water pouring from one hole in the rocks and disappearing farther on.

Nearly an hour had been spent in walking and crawling around the big cave. They had had several narrow escapes from pitfalls and were moving with caution.

"Maybe we had better go back," suggested Roger.

"I was thinkin' thet myself," answered Abe Blower. "Nothin' much in here, so far as I kin see. We might come back later an' have another look—if we don't discover thet lost mine elsewhere," he added.

"You are sure this is the right district?" asked Dave.

"Oh, yes, the lost Landslide Mine can't be very far away," was the old miner's reply.

They turned back, heading, as they thought, for the opening by which they had entered. On and on they walked, occasionally slipping and sliding where the rocks sloped. Then they came to a spot where there was a wide crevice to cross.

"My gracious, did we jump over that when we came this way?" queried the senator's son, as all gazed at the wide opening, which was of unknown depth.

"We certainly did not!" declared Abe Blower.

"Then we have come the wrong way!" put in Dave, quickly.

"It sure looks like it, lad."

"If that's the case, we'll have to go back!" came from Roger. He looked around them and his face paled a trifle. "Oh, do you think we are lost?"

"If we are not, we are next door to it," was Abe Blower's serious answer.



CHAPTER XXIV

SEARCHING FOR THE LANDSLIDE MINE

Lost underground!

It was a terrible condition of affairs to contemplate, and for an instant Dave's heart almost stopped beating and something like a chill swept down his backbone. What if they should be unable to find their way out of the rocky cave?