If you agrees nod yur hed 2 times to Spike and you wil be free in less than 10 minits.

Bud read these words through slowly; and then, moving up close to Thure, he passed the paper to him.

"Read it," he said, fixing his eyes anxiously on his comrade's face.

By this time both boys saw plainly how strong was the web of evidence that the two villains had so cunningly succeeded in throwing around them; and how completely they appeared to have them in their power. And what could they do or say to disprove their testimony? Their own tale, looked at in the light of the evidence of the two men, would seem improbable, would sound like a tale made up to fit the occasion. And they could not bring forward a single witness to prove its truthfulness! No wonder the unfortunate boys were tempted to give up the skin map; for what is gold, when weighed in the balance against life?

Thure read the note; and then turned to Bud, his face white and his heart throbbing with anxiety.

"What shall our answer be?" he asked in a whisper. "I hate like sin to give up the skin map to them two scoundrels; but, I reckon, our fathers and mothers would rather have our lives than the gold. But," and his face brightened a little, "we have not yet given our testimony. I reckon we had better wait until we see how the alcalde and the jury take our stories before giving up the map."

"Yes," agreed Bud, his own face brightening at the thought of putting off the surrender a little longer, "we will wait and see what effect our testimony has. But, I guess you are right, if it comes to hanging," and he shuddered, "or giving up the map, we'll have to give up the map. But we won't give up until we've got to," and his face hardened. "Who'd a thought them two scoundrels could get us in such a terrible fix!" and he glared wrathfully in the direction of the two men, who now stood close together regarding Thure and Bud with furtive but anxious eyes.

"Now to give them two skunks their answer," and Thure, holding the paper out where the two men could see it, deliberately tore it to pieces and, turning his back scornfully to them, gave his attention to the doings of the court.



CHAPTER XI

AN UNEXPECTED WITNESS

The alcalde, the moment he saw that the mob spirit had been subdued, had returned quietly to his place behind the barrel; and, when the two boys again gave their attention to him, he had just reached his rude seat of judgment, and was about to speak.

"I knew," he said, as his keen eyes searched the faces of the men, who had so opportunely formed the cordon of safety around him and his court, "that I could depend on the good sense and fair-mindedness of the people of Sacramento City. We will now proceed with the trial," and he quietly slipped back both of his revolvers into his coat pockets.

"Once more," and the alcalde raised his voice so that all could hear, "the court asks, is there any other witness to bear testimony against the two prisoners, if so, let him now step forward."

For a minute or two the alcalde waited. There was no movement, no word from the surrounding crowd.

"We will now proceed with the examination of the prisoners. Young man, take your place on the witness stand," and the alcalde turned to Thure.

"Don't get excited. Keep cool," cautioned Bud, as Thure hastened to take his place in front of the barrel.

A hush came over the great encircling crowd, as Thure stood before the alcalde and was solemnly sworn to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Many of those rough bearded men had sons of their own back at home, hardly younger than was the prisoner, who now stood before the bar of justice, with a rope dangling threateningly above his head; and these men found it hard to believe that that wholesome-looking, clear-eyed youth could be guilty of the atrocious crime charged against him. But, there was the evidence; and the laws of the city must be enforced; and their faces grew stern and sad.

Thure told his story in a clear straightforward way; told how he and Bud had gone out for a hunt on that day, how they had heard the death-cry of the unfortunate horse and had slain the huge grizzly, how, just after they had completed the skinning of the grizzly, they had seen the struggle of the old miner with his two assailants and had rushed to his rescue, how the robbers had fled, leaving the miner robbed and mortally stabbed, how they had endeavored to get him to their home before he died, but had failed, and, finally, how the miner had died and they had borne his dead body home and had buried it.

There was hardly a loud sound made while Thure was telling his story. One could almost have heard the great crowd breathing. When he had spoken of witnessing the struggle between the miner and his murderers and of rushing to his rescue, there had been a great stir in the crowd, but it had quickly subsided, so eager were all to hear every word that he uttered. His manner and his story made a deep impression; but, alas, it was soon seen that his evidence had introduced nothing to disprove the testimony of his two accusers that had any stronger proof back of it than his own word and the word of his fellow prisoner, while he had admitted bringing the dead body of the murdered miner home and burying it, admitted having the dead body of the miner in his possession. This, at least, was in direct proof of what his accusers had testified; for they had sworn that they had seen the two boys bear the dead body off with them. It looked as if they had made their story up to fit in with the accounts of the previous witnesses and yet disprove the story of their accusers.

Thure, so far in his testimony, had said nothing of the description the old miner had given of his murderers. He was saving that for the last, to be brought out by the questions of the alcalde, if possible. He wished to make it as emphatic and striking as possible, and yet he did not wish to appear to give it voluntarily; for he was wise enough to see that for him and Bud to accuse their accusers might re-act back on themselves. Fortunately the questions of the alcalde led directly to it.

"You testify," began the alcalde, the moment Thure had apparently completed his testimony, "that you drove the murderers away from the body of the miner. Did you get near enough to them to recognize them again, should you see them?"

"No," Thure answered. "I could only swear that one was a large man and that the other was small."

"Did you discover anything that would lead you to surmise who committed the crime?" again asked the alcalde.

"No, not directly," answered Thure hesitatingly. "But the old miner, just before he died, gave us a description of his two murderers," and he stopped.

"How did he describe them? Why do you hesitate?" asked the alcalde sharply.

"Because," answered Thure boldly, "the description the dying miner gave of his two murderers appears to make us accuse our accusers, as if we were trying to get back at them, when it is God's truth that we are uttering."

"Give us the description. We are the ones to judge of its merits," commanded the alcalde, his face flushing with interest, while the surrounding crowd became breathless.

Bud was looking at the two men; and he saw both of them start at the words of Thure and glance apprehensively into each other's eyes.

"The miner said," and Thure turned his eyes full upon Bill Ugger, "that one of his murderers was a large, red-headed man with a broken nose; and that the other," and his eyes turned to the face of Spike Quinley, "was a small man, with a pock-marked face."

For a moment no one spoke. All eyes were bent on the faces of the two men. There was no mistaking to whom the description applied. Then a harsh laugh broke from Bill Ugger.

"Tryin' to turn th' tables on us, be you?" and again he laughed. "Wal, I reckon, ever'one here believes that yarn. It fits tew pat, not tew be true. So me an' Spike are th' true murderers, be we? Wal, this is sum unexpected an' s'prisin', ain't it Spike?" and he turned to his comrade, grinning and glaring like a huge buffoon; but a close observer might have noticed that his skin had whitened beneath its red beard.

Quinley had started perceptibly at Thure's description of the miner's murderers, but he had quickly controlled himself, and a deadly gleam had come into his wicked little eyes and his thin lips had tightened, as, unperceived by all eyes, except the eyes the movement was intended for, he had turned and given a man standing in the edge of the circle a signal. The man at once had slipped back in the crowd and vanished.

"Powerful s'prisin'," and Quinley turned and grinned back into the face of Ugger. "I reckon you can already feel th' rope a-tightenin' 'round y'ur neck, can't you, Bill? That description sart'in fits us as pat as an old shoe. But th' s'prisin'est thing 'bout it all is, that I don't 'pear tew have any rekerlections of a-committin' that murder. Must have ben dreamin', when I done it."

The eyes of the alcalde, during this brief byplay, had been closely watching the faces of the two men. He now turned to Thure again.

"Have you any witnesses, other than your fellow prisoner, to testify to the truth of your statements?" he asked.

"No," answered Thure; "except that our mothers and our sisters and the folks at the rancho can testify to our bringing home the body of the dead miner and that we told them that we had found him just as I have said that we did."

"That would prove nothing as to who committed the murder. Is there anyone in Sacramento City that knows either of you two boys?"

"No," again answered Thure. "Not that I know of, unless," and his face brightened, "Captain Sutler is here. He knows both of us well. We are expecting to find our dads at Hangtown."

"Captain Sutter is not here," answered the alcalde, "as anyone in the city might have told you; and it is impossible to send to Hangtown after your fathers."

"But, are we to be proven guilty on the evidence of those two men alone, whom I am almost certain committed the crime themselves?" and Thure's face flushed indignantly. "Is not our word, at least, as good as theirs?"

"Young man," replied the alcalde sternly, "that is for the jury to decide. Have you any further evidence to give? If not, and the jury do not wish to ask you any questions," he paused and glanced toward the foreman, who shook his head, "you are dismissed, and the other prisoner can take his place on the witness stand."

For a moment Thure hesitated. He wanted to say something, to do something to further disprove this horrible accusation—but, what could he say or do that he had not already said or done? He had told his story. There was nothing more for him to tell, nothing more for him to do; and, with tightly compressed lips, he turned and walked from the witness stand back to his place by the side of the sheriff, while Bud took his place in front of the barrel.

There was nothing new in Bud's testimony. He could only repeat, in different words, what Thure had already told.

While Bud was giving his testimony, Spike Quinley worked his way up close to Thure; and again a piece of paper was slipped furtively into his hand.

Thure glanced down at the paper. At least here was a chance to escape the worst. If Bud did not make a better impression than he apparently had, then there would be nothing left but to surrender the map, that or hanging. And it must be done soon now, or it would be too late. Thure shuddered at the thought of the hanging; and, with fingers that trembled a little, cautiously opened the paper and read these dreadful words:

You have gone and done it now you infernal idjit by testifin' agin us it is now yur necks or ourn al hel kant save you now you kan keep the map and we wil git it off yur ded bodies and you kan have the satisfackshun of noin that you might have ben alive and wel when yur danglin ded at the end of a rope.

The vindictive scrawl closed with a rude attempt to draw a rope, hanging from a tree, with a man dangling from one end.

Thure stared blankly at the paper for a moment after he had read the words that appeared to close their last avenue of escape. He saw clearly the force of their meaning. It had, indeed, now become a battle for life between him and Bud and their two accusers. Their testimony, once they were free, would turn suspicion directly upon Quinley and Ugger. It would be suicidal for the two men now to attempt to do anything to free them. Thure raised his eyes and looked wildly around, at the face of the alcalde, the faces of the jury, and the faces of the surrounding crowd. On all was a look of ominous sadness and sternness that made his heart sink. Evidently the words and the actions of the cunning Ugger and the crafty Quinley had again completely turned the tide against them. But the worst blow was yet to come.

Bud completed his testimony and, in an ominous silence, was dismissed. The alcalde arose from his judgment-stump and turned to address a few final words to the jury; but, as the first word left his mouth, a commotion occurred in the crowd directly in front of him.

"More testimony! Important testimony!" shouted a voice; and a man, with his right arm done up in a sling, pushed his way through the encircling crowd.

The man hastily and keenly scrutinized the faces of the two prisoners.

"Yes, them's sart'inly th' fellers," he said aloud; and turned his eyes on the faces of their accusers.

"Them's shore th' same two men I seed. Thar's no mistaking them faces," he declared, with conviction. "Now," and he turned to the alcalde, "I asks y'ur pardon, y'ur honor; but, bein' sum crippled with a broken arm, as you can see, an', on that account, keepin' sum close in my tent, I heared nuthin' of this trial 'til jest a few minits ago; but, when I did hear of it, I felt mortally sart'in that it had tew do with th' same murder that I witness in th' Sacermento Valley three days ago; an', wantin' tew see that justice made no mistake, I got here as quick as I could, tew give in my testimony. Hope I'm not tew late," and he fixed his eyes anxiously on the face of the alcalde.

"No; you are not too late," the alcalde answered, looking at the man keenly, "if your evidence is of real importance."

"I reckon it is of real importance," answered the man, "seein' that I saw th' killin' done with my own two eyes; an' was close enough tew reckernize th' killers plain."

This statement caused a big sensation in the surrounding crowd. All pressed nearer, and stretched their heads eagerly forward to get a sight of this new witness, while, "Hush!" "Quiet!" "Shut your mouth!" and like expressions, came from all around the crowding circle of men.

Thure and Bud had both started with pleased surprise at the words of this unexpected witness, and their faces lighted up with hope. Here, at last, was a witness who would tell the truth, who would free them from this horrible accusation of murder; for, evidently by his actions, he was as much of a stranger to Ugger and Quinley as he was to themselves, and, consequently, he could not be in league with their two cunning and mendacious accusers. They glanced at the two men. Their surprise appeared to be real; and the two boys thought they detected a look of fearful consternation on each face.

"Step forward and be sworn," commanded the alcalde, the moment the buzz of the excitement caused by the words of the man with the broken arm had ceased.

The man stepped quickly in front of the barrel; and was sworn, in the same manner the other witnesses had been sworn, to tell the truth.

"What is your name and business?" demanded the alcalde.

"John Skoonly," replied the man; "an' I'm bound for th' diggin's. Jest got in from San Francisco this mornin'."

"Now, John Skoonly," and the alcalde's eyes rested steadily on the witness's face as he settled back on his stump, "kindly tell the jury and the people gathered here, what you know of the case now being tried before them."

"I was on my way from San Francisco tew here," began the witness, "when three days ago I wandered off th' main trail tew do a little huntin' an' was throwed by my hoss an' broke my right arm. That took all th' hunt out of me; an' I laid down under sum trees that growed 'long side a crik tew try an' do sumthin' tew ease up th' pain an' tew git a little rest afore I started back for th' trail.

"Wal, I reckon I hadn't ben thar more'n half an hour, when I heared a screech that fairly lifted my hat off my head, a-comin' from th' open valley, jest beyont th' trees whar I was a-lyin' in th' shade, an' a-soundin' like sum feller was gittin' hurt mortal bad. I jumps up quick an' runs tew sum bushes that growed a-treen me an' th' sound, an' looks through 'em, a little cautious-like on account of my broken arm, an' seed three men a-strugglin' on th' ground not more'n forty rods from whar I was; an' th' next I knowed I heared a lot of yellin', an' seen tew men jump out of th' bushes sum twenty rods below me, an' start runnin' for them fightin' men. But, afore they'd made a dozen jumps, tew of them men springs up from th' ground, th' other man didn't 'pear tew have any spring left in him, but lay still, grabs up their rifles an' hollers tew them runnin' men tew stop sudden, or they'd shoot; an' th' men stops sudden, they havin' only pistols. Then th' tew men with rifles yells for them tew git an' git quick, an' one on 'em fires his rifle; an', I reckon, th' bullet must have come close, for th' tew men whirled 'bout like they was sum scart an' started back for th' bushes.

"Th' tew men now picks up th' body of th' third man, which hangs limp like he was dead, an' flings it across th' back of one of their hosses an' ties it thar. Then they mounts th' other tew hosses an' goes a-ridin' off a-leadin' the hoss with th' dead body across its back ahind 'em; an' in ridin' off, they comes within a dozen rods of whar I was a-hidin', an' I sees 'em plain, an' I was s'prised tew see that they didn't look tew be much more'n boys; an' yit they 'peared tew have killed a man!

"Y'ur honor," and the man paused and whirled partly around, and when he continued again his voice was very solemn, "as shore as thar is a God in heaven, th' tew men that I saw a-ridin' by me, with that dead body on th' hoss ahind them, are a-standin' right thar!" and he pointed straight toward Thure and Bud.

A sound of horror and of rage went up from the surrounding crowd, a sound that had the promise of dreadful things to come in it.

The alcalde leaped to his feet, his face looking white and drawn; for he knew that now the two boys were doomed, and, somehow, in spite of all the terrible evidence, he could not look into their clear-eyed faces and believe them guilty of such a horrible crime.

"Silence! Silence, men!" he commanded, stretching out both of his hands imperatively. "Silence! I have questions, important questions to ask the witness."

Almost instantly the great crowd became still, so anxious were all now to hear every word.

"John Skoonly," and the alcalde turned to the witness, "you swear that you saw two men start to the rescue of the murdered man. Did you see these two men plainly enough to recognize them should you see them again?"

"Sart'in'," replied the man promptly, and, whirling about, he pointed to Quinley and Ugger, "Thar they stand. I'd know them mugs ag'in anywhar," and he grinned.

"Why," continued the alcalde, "did you not make your presence known to these two men, at least after the murderers had ridden off? There would not have been any danger then," and he smiled scornfully; "and they might have been of help to you in your crippled condition."

"Wal," answered the man frankly, turning and looking squarely into the faces of Ugger and Quinley, "tew be honest, I didn't like th' looks of them tew faces none tew much; an', as I had consider'ble of money 'long with me, I reckoned 'twould be safer for me tew travel alone jest then, so I jest sneaked out 'tother side of th' trees an' rode back tew th' trail alone."

Quinley and Ugger scowled at this frank reference to their looks; and a few in the encircling crowd laughed grimly. Plainly there could be no collusion between this witness and Ugger and Quinley; and this apparent fact gave almost the positiveness of proven truth to his testimony, in the eyes of the crowd.

"Then," and the alcalde looked sharply into the face of the witness, "you never saw either William Ugger or Spikenard Quinley, until you saw them, as described in your testimony, on the day of the murder?"

"If y'ur meanin' that little pock-marked runt an' that big red-readed feller with a smashed nose, a-standin' thar, I sart'inly never did see them afore that identickle moment. Why, I didn't even know their names 'til you spoke 'em out."

Again some of the crowd laughed in a grim sort of a way; and again Ugger and Quinley scowled and glared wrathfully at the frank-spoken witness.

"I am done," the alcalde said quietly, turning to the jury. "Do you, gentlemen of the jury, wish to ask the witness any questions?"

"No," replied the foreman, after a glance into the faces of his fellow jurymen. "Your questions have brought out the only points we wished to inquire about."

"Do the prisoners wish to ask the witness any questions?" and the alcalde turned to Thure and Bud.

For a moment neither boy spoke, neither boy moved. The testimony of this witness, so different from what they had expected, had dumfounded them. They felt that he had knocked the last prop out from under their safety; and all the horrors of their situation had dropped down on their spirits with crushing, numbing force. Their minds, their nerves, their very muscles were paralyzed, for the moment, by the sudden and awful realization that now they must hang, must hang for a crime committed by others!

But a boy at eighteen can never be long absolutely without hope. Surely, surely the jury, the alcalde must see that this witness had lied, that all the witnesses against them had lied! They could not, they could not bring in a verdict of guilty! They could not sentence them, Thure Conroyal and Bud Randolph, to be hanged! Hanged! The thought stung them into life; and Thure turned wildly to the alcalde.

"It's a lie! a lie!" he cried. "It is all a lie! They know it is a lie! You surely must believe us! We did not kill the miner! We tried to save him! In spite of all their lies, you must believe us! We are only two boys, two boys without a friend to help us! We can not fight against their cunning! It is our word against their word! Look at us! Look into our faces! Do we look like boys who would kill a man? Look into the faces of our accusers! Think, we have fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters! Oh, you can not hang us, you can not hang us! You must believe us!"

"My boy," there was a solemn sternness in the voice of the alcalde as he spoke, "if you are guiltless of the crime charged against you, then, may God have mercy on us and on you! But I, the jury, the men gathered here can only judge of your guilt or innocence by the evidence presented before us; and, according to that evidence, and not according to the dictates of hearts that may be touched by your youth and seeming innocence, must the verdict be rendered. Gentlemen of the jury," and he turned to the jury, "the evidence has now all been laid before you; and it now becomes your duty to determine the guilt or the innocence of the prisoners. May the great God of justice and mercy direct your judgment aright; and cause you to bring in a verdict in accordance with the real truth!"



CHAPTER XII

HAMMER JONES

The jurymen at once gathered about the foreman; but the consultation was brief. In less than ten minutes the foreman signified that the verdict was ready.

"Sheriff," the alcalde's lips were tight-drawn and his face whitened as he spoke, "bring the prisoners forward to hear the verdict of the jury."

The jury now stood together in line, on the right of the alcalde. The foreman stood a pace in front of this line.

The sheriff led Thure and Bud directly up in front of the line and within a couple of paces of the foreman; and there he halted the prisoners to await the giving of the verdict.

For a minute there was absolute silence, as the prisoners stood thus before the jury. The surrounding crowd forgot to breathe. It seemed, for a moment, as if the alcalde could not ask the fateful questions; but, at last, his tight-drawn lips parted.

"Gentlemen of the jury, are you ready to render your verdict?" he asked.

"We are ready," answered the foreman.

"Gentlemen of the jury, you may state your verdict."

The foreman's eyes faltered and turned from the faces of the prisoners.

"Guilty of the crime as charged," he said, and closed his lips tightly, and turned his head away.

The great crowd breathed again; and an ominous, deep-toned, shuddering murmur arose from its depths, as all eyes turned toward the alcalde. It now became his duty to sentence the prisoners; and, in accordance with the verdict just rendered, he could pronounce but one sentence—hanging.

For a full minute the alcalde stood straight and silent. He realized to its full the awful irrevocableness of the sentence he was about to pronounce, and a shuddering horror shook his soul. Never before had he felt like this when pronouncing a similar sentence. The sight of those two, white, staring, boyish faces had unmanned him—yet he must do his duty.

"Thure Conroyal, Bud Randolph—" His voice was clear and firm and the eyes he turned on the prisoners stern and steady—"a just and impartial jury have found you guilty of the horrible crime of murder; and it now becomes my awful duty to pronounce your sentence. Stand forth and receive your sentence."

As Thure and Bud turned their white faces toward the alcalde and stepped forth to receive their sentence, a man, almost a giant in size, who had just pushed himself through the crowd to the inner edge of the circle, uttered an exclamation of surprise and horror; and, the next instant, he had flung the men still standing between him and the open space around the alcalde and the prisoners violently to one side, and, almost in a bound, had reached the side of the alcalde.

"Great God in heaven, alcalde!" he roared. "What does this mean?" and he stared from the face of the alcalde to the faces of the two boys, into whose dulled eyes had suddenly leaped a great light at the sight of the big man.

"Murder and hanging," answered the alcalde sternly. "The prisoners have had a fair trial; the jury have pronounced them guilty; and I am about to sentence them to be hanged."

"Murder! Hanged!" and the utter, unbelieving astonishment on the face of the big man was good to see.

"It's a lie, a lie! We never killed the man! Oh, Ham, we never killed the man! You, surely, will believe us!" and Thure and Bud both, with faces white with excitement and hope, sprang eagerly to the side of the big fellow.

"Shut up! Stand back!" and he pushed the boys away. "See here," and he swung around in front of the alcalde, "you know me; an' you know I'd never try tew save th' neck of no criminal. But I know them boys, know their dads an' mas; an' I know they never committed no murder. Who seen 'em dew it? Whar are th' witnesses?" and his eyes glared around the circle of tense faces.

"There they stand, Ham," and the alcalde pointed to the three witnesses, who at the sudden appearance of Hammer Jones, the big friend of the two boys, had involuntarily come together, as if for mutual defense; "and each one of the three swore positively that he saw the boys kill the man."

"Huh!" and, almost in a stride, Hammer Jones stood directly in front of Bill Ugger; and, the instant his eyes looked closely into the face of the man, his own face went white with wrath.

"Hello, Greaser Smith!" and the great hand fell on the shrinking shoulder and gripped the coat collar tightly. "So you're one of th' skunks that's a-tryin' tew git them tew boys hanged, be you? Rekerlect that time down in Sante Fe, when you was a-goin' tew skin a nigger alive, an' wanted tew kill tew boys for interferin'? Still up tew yur boyish tricks, I see. Wal, I've still got th' same big foot that kicked you intew th' mudpuddle; an' th' same big fist that smashed that nose of yourn when you was a-tryin' tew kiss a Mexican gal against her will. An' now you're a-tryin' tew have tew innocent boys hanged for a murder that you probably did yurself," and Ham's eyes flamed. "You cowardly skunk!" and, suddenly letting go of the coat collar, he took a quick step backward, and swung up his great fist with all the strength of his powerful right arm, striking the man squarely under the chin. The force of the blow lifted Ugger, alias Greaser Smith, off his feet and hurled him to the ground as senseless as a log.

"Now, we'll have a look at th' other witnesses," and Ham turned to the cringing Quinley.

"Never seed you afore," he declared, as he looked into the pock-marked face of the trembling man, whose terrified eyes were fixed on the huge fist that had so summarily dealt with his big partner. "Wal, you are a likely lookin' cuss tew be th' side partner of Greaser Smith. I reckon you tew pull tewgether like tew mules. I'll have sumthin' special tew say tew you 'bout this case, when I see who t'other witness is," and he turned to the man with the broken arm, who had been looking excitedly around, as if he were searching for an opening in the crowd through which to escape and who now stood with his back toward Hammer Jones.

"Here, you," and Ham caught him by the shoulder and whirled him around, "jest give me a sight of yur mug—wal, I'll be durned, if 'tain't Skoonly!" and Ham's eyes widened with surprise and the angry glint in them deepened, while the man under the grip of his big hand shook as if he had an ague fit. "Here's matter for the alcalde. Come," and he started toward the alcalde, dragging the man along with him.

So sudden had been Ham's appearance and so swift and unexpected were his actions, that, at first, the great surrounding crowd had stood and stared at him in astonishment, making no move; but, by now, they were beginning to wake up to the fact that here was a man evidently bent on defeating the ends of justice; and an angry growl, the growl of a mob, a sound once heard that is never forgotten, rolled out from its midst. But there were many men in that crowd who knew Hammer Jones, who had hunted and trapped and fought Indians with him, who had seen him risk his life fearlessly to save a comrade's life, and who never yet had known him to do a dishonorable deed; and these men knew, that, if Hammer Jones said that the prisoners were innocent, he had good reasons for saying it, and they were ready to see that he had a chance to prove his statement; and cries of: "Hurrah for Ham Jones!" "Give him a chance to prove what he says!" "Hear! Hear! Hear! Ham Jones!" "He shall be heard!" mingled with yells of: "String him up along with the boys!" "Bust his head!" "He's trying to rescue the murderers!" and like cries of rage at this unexpected interference.

But, before these two opposing forces could come to a clash, a tall spare man, whose deep-set eyes, keen and piercing as a hawk's, shone out of a weather-bronzed face, pushed himself hurriedly through the crowd that was beginning to seethe around the open court-room beneath the great evergreen oak, and hastened to the side of the alcalde.

"What is the trouble?" he demanded in a quiet authoritative tone of voice.

The alcalde welcomed him with a glad smile of recognition; and, as briefly as possible, told him what had occurred.

The man turned quickly and the keen eyes glanced, with a violent start of recognition, for a moment into the faces of the two boys.

"My God, alcalde!" and he whirled about in front of the surprised alcalde, "you were about to make a terrible mistake! I know these boys well; and I know they never murdered a man.

"Men! Men! Hear me!" and he leaped lightly up on top of the barrel that stood in front of the alcalde, his singularly clear and penetrating voice reaching every ear in the crowd. "Men! Men! Hear me! A terrible mistake has—"

"It's Fremont!" shouted someone. "Hurrah for Colonel Fremont! The man who licked the Mexicans! The man who won California for us! Hurrah for Colonel Fremont!"

The name acted like magic in quieting the fast-growing turbulence of the crowd. There was not a man present who had not heard of the dauntless young explorer, the bold soldier, the recent conqueror of California, to whom more than to any other one man they owed the fact that the gold-diggings were in the territory of the United States; and all wished to see this remarkable man, all were ready to hear what he had to say. As suddenly as it had begun, the violence of the crowd ceased and all eyes were turned toward Fremont.

"Go ahead, Colonel!" shouted a rough voice. "Thar's enough of y'ur old men here tew see that you git a fair hearin'."

"Thank you, gentlemen," and Fremont bowed. "The alcalde tells me," he continued, after a moment's pause, "that you have tried those two boys," and he pointed to Thure and Bud, "for murder, have found them guilty, and were about to hang them. I know these two young men, your prisoners, well. I know their fathers, their brothers, have known them for years; and so sure am I that you have made a terrible mistake, that I am ready, personally, to stand accountable for them until their innocence has been proven to your complete satisfaction."

"But, three men swore that they saw the prisoners kill the man, Colonel!" called someone from the crowd. "This has been no mob trial; but a regular court trial by jury; and the jury found them guilty, unanimous."

"Where are those witnesses? Let us have a look at them?" demanded Fremont.

"Here's one on 'em, Colonel," and the huge frame of Hammer Jones loomed up in front of Fremont, with the trembling Skoonly still in the grip of his right hand. "I swun, but I am glad tew see you right now," and quickly shifting Skoonly to his left hand, he extended his right to Fremont.

"Ham, Hammer Jones!" and Fremont gripped the extended hand with glad cordiality. "It's like old times to see your face again. But this is no time for idle talk," and his fine face hardened. "So that is one of the witnesses against Thure and Bud," and his piercing eyes looked searchingly into the face of Skoonly. "What did he swear to?" and Fremont turned quickly to the alcalde.

"He swore," answered the alcalde, "that he saw the prisoners kill the man three days ago in the Sacramento Valley—"

"Three days ago!" snorted Ham wrathfully. "He saw th' prisoners kill a man three days ago in th' Sacermento Valley! Not unless he's got a double-barreled long-shot gun ahind him that can shoot his body clean from Hangtown tew th' Sacermento Valley in less time than I could take a chaw of ter-backer; for three days ago I seen this identickle man, Skoonly, run out of Hangtown for tryin' tew steal th' gold-dust of a sick miner. S'cuse me for interrupting" and Ham turned his eyes, still glinting with his honest wrath, to the alcalde.

"What!" and the alcalde's eyes brightened and his whole face lightened, as if a great load had been suddenly lifted off his soul. "You saw this man run out of Hangtown three days ago! The very time that he swore he was on his way from San Francisco to the diggings! The very day that he swore he saw the prisoners kill the miner in the Sacramento Valley!"

"Right. He sart'in was in Hangtown three days ago. I reckon I otter know, seein' I was one on 'em tew help run him out. Ay, Skoonly," and Ham jerked the cringing man around in front of the alcalde. "Now, what might be th' trouble with that arm?" and he glared down at the bandaged arm of Skoonly, who had submitted to all these indignities, almost without a protest. He knew Hammer Jones.

"He said," answered the alcalde, "that his horse threw him and broke his arm a little while before he saw the murder committed and that that was why he had not gone to the help of the miner."

"Huh!" and again Ham snorted scornfully, then a sudden gleam came into his eyes, and he turned quickly to the alcalde. "Supposing" he grinned, "you have that broken arm investigated. 'Twouldn't s'prise me none tew find it a durned good arm yit."

"Good!" and the alcalde smiled. "Skoonly can't object, because it will be a strong point in his favor, if we find the arm really broken."

"But I do object," protested Skoonly emphatically, his face becoming livid. "Th' pain'll be sumthin' awful; an' doc said that it mustn't be taken out of the splints for a month on no account."

"Objection overruled," declared the alcalde, who had been watching the man's face. "Here," and he turned to the foreman of the jury, "this appears like a proper point for you to investigate. I'll turn him over to you. Be careful and not hurt the arm any more than you are compelled to," and he smiled.

The crowd, which by this time had formed a close and deeply interested circle around the dramatic characters in the little drama that was here being enacted, watched with tense and grim faces, the foreman, aided by a couple of his fellow jurymen, slowly unwind the bandages from Skoonly's arm. If they had been fooled, if they had been led by false testimony almost to hang two innocent men, nay, boys, their wrath against the false accusers would be sudden and terrible.

Skoonly yelled and squirmed, when they began unwinding the bandages from his arm, as if the action caused him the most intense pain, and begged them to stop, while his face grew so white that even Ham himself began to fear that the arm, at least, bore no false testimony; but the unwinding went steadily on.

And, lo and behold! when the last bandage was off, there lay the arm, sound of bone, and without even a bruise or discoloration along its whole length!

"Wal, I'll be durned! Jest as I thought! The cur! An' that is th' kind of evidence you was a-go-in' tew hang them boys on!" and Ham's angry eyes swept the circle of surrounding faces.

A murmur, that swiftly swelled into a roar of hundreds of angry voices, broke from the surrounding crowd, when Ham's testimony and the result of the examination of Skoonly's bandaged arm became known.

"A rope! Get a rope! Hang him!" yelled a hoarse voice; and the cry was taken up by hundreds of voices; and the jam of enraged men pressed closer and closer to the cowering man, whose face grew livid with fear, as he glared wildly around, seeking some means of escape. But there was none; and despair and a great dread, the dread of a sudden and frightful death, took possession of his soul.

"Save me! Save me!" he yelled, throwing himself at Fremont's feet. "I did not mean tew git th' boys hanged. They, Bill an' Spike, told me 'twas jest tew scare them. They was a-tryin' tew frighten th' boys intew doin' sumthin' for them—Oh-h-h, don't let them git me! Save me!" and he clutched Fremont's legs with both his quivering hands, as the roar of the crowd became louder and more threatening.

"Quick," and Fremont bent over him, "will you tell all, all that you know of this horrible affair, if we will save your neck?"

"Yes! Yes!" eagerly agreed the terror-stricken man. "I'll tell ever'thing! Afore God I'll tell ever'thing! It's Bill an' Spike who is responsible, not me. It's them you want."

"Men," and Fremont again leaped up on top of the barrel, both hands outstretched for silence. "Listen, men, listen!"

For a minute the roar of the crowd continued, and then swiftly subsided, as all eyes caught sight of the tall figure of Fremont standing on the barrel top.

"Make your words few and to the point, Colonel. This is no time for speech-making," warned a voice from the crowd. "We want to get hold of the skunk who was willing to falsely swear away the lives of two boys."

"My words will be few and to the point," Fremont began, his clear penetrating voice reaching every ear in the crowd. "Skoonly will confess everything, if you will spare his neck. He appears to have been but the tool of the other two men; and we will need his testimony to make out a case against them and to prove to the satisfaction of all, the innocence of the two boys. Under these circumstances, it would seem to be best to allow him to go free, providing he makes a clean breast of everything he knows concerning this case."

"And further providin'," supplemented Ham, "that he be warned never ag'in tew show his cowardly face in Sacermento City or any minin'-camp in Calaforny, under penalty of instant hangin'."

"An' that he be given a hoss-licken, jest afore lettin' him go," added a roughly dressed miner, standing near the inner edge of the circle.

Growlingly, like a hungry dog driven from a bone, the crowd at length agreed to this disposal of Skoonly; and the wretched man, with much faltering and many terrified glances around the enclosing circle of grim faces, told how, for a thousand dollars in gold-dust, he had agreed to help Quinley and Ugger out with his testimony, if they needed it; how he and the two scoundrels had planned out the whole thing the night before and were on the lookout for the boys that morning; how he had remained in a near-by saloon, with his manufactured broken arm all ready, waiting for a summons from the two men; and how, at last, the summons had come and he had given in his testimony, according to agreement. He declared that the two men had told him that they only wished to frighten the two boys into giving up something, he did not know what, that really belonged to them, and had assured him there would be no danger of getting the boys hanged, that they would be sure to yield before it got to that point. About the murder of the miner he knew nothing, except that Spike Quinley and Bill Ugger had told him that they had killed the man themselves, and had showed him the money-belt, still heavy with gold-dust, that they had taken from him—

"Great guns!" broke in Ham excitedly, at this moment, "if we ain't plum forgot them tew villains," and he made a mad break through the crowd in the direction of the spot where he had left Quinley and Ugger.

In an instant the wildest excitement prevailed; and hundreds of men were rushing about excitedly, looking for the two scoundrels. But Quinley and Ugger were wise in their wickedness, and seeing, with fear-enlightened eyes, the results of the advent of Hammer Jones and Colonel Fremont, had taken advantage of the excitement attending the examination of Skoonly, to disappear so suddenly and completely, that, although Sacramento City was searched all that day and that night, as with a fine-toothed comb, not a sign nor hair of either man could be found; and the enraged crowd had to be satisfied with giving Skoonly the promised "hoss-licken," and running him out of town the next morning, with a warning never to show his cowardly face on their streets again, unless he was looking for the job of dancing the hangman's hornpipe at the end of a rope.

The excitement and the confusion and the swift scattering of the crowd, attending the search for the two scoundrels, of course ended the trial of Thure Conroyal and Bud Randolph for the murder of John Stackpole; and they stood free and worthy men in the sight of all people once more—and with the skin map still in their possession.

"Great Moses! but I was glad to see you, Ham!" declared Thure, as he gripped his big friend's hand, after some of the excitement had quieted down.

"Glad! Glad is no name for my feelings, when I saw your great body loom up by the side of the alcalde," and Bud gripped his other hand.

"I reckon you was some pleased tew see me," grinned back Ham, "both on you," and the hearty grip of his big hands made both boys wince.

"Colonel, Colonel Fremont!" and Thure broke away from Ham's hand to rush up to Fremont, who was talking with the alcalde. "I—we can never thank you enough for coming so splendidly to our help."

"Then do not try," smiled back Fremont. "My boy," and he gripped Thure's hand, as his face sobered, "I have not forgotten a certain night, some three years ago, near the shores of Lake Klamath, when an Indian stood with bow bended and arrow aimed at my breast; nor the skill and quickness of the boy, whose bullet struck and killed the Indian before his fingers could loose the arrow.[2] I fancy that I have not yet discharged my full debt to that boy."

[Footnote 2: A full account of this incident, the saving of Fremont's life by Thure, is given in the preceding book of this series, Fighting with Fremont.]

"That—that was nothing," stammered Thure, his face flushing with pleasure to think that Fremont still remembered the incident. "But this—Think of the terrible death you helped save us from!" and Thure shuddered.

"Yes, it was terrible," and Fremont's eyes rested kindly on the face of the boy, "but, think no more about it now," he added quickly, as he saw how swiftly the color had fled from his face at the thought of the dreadful peril he had just escaped. "Come," and he turned briskly to Ham, "I wish you, and the two boys, and the alcalde, if he will do us the honor, to dine with me. I have an hour at my disposal before I must leave the city; and I know of no better way of spending it than in your company. Besides, I am hungry, and I am sure you are, also, after all this excitement, now happily over. So, fall in," and he smiled, as he gave the once familiar command.

The alcalde begged to be excused, on account of other matters that demanded his immediate attention; but Ham and the two boys, with answering-smiles on their faces, "fell in"; and, under the command of Fremont, charged down on the City Hotel, where their generous host entertained them lavishly on the costly viands of that expensive hostelry, while he and Ham talked of old times, of the perils and hardships and joys they had shared on those wonderful exploring expeditions that had brought a world-wide fame to the then young lieutenant, and the two delighted boys listened, until it became time for Colonel Fremont to go.

"Our dads will never forget what you have done for us, Colonel," Thure said, as he grasped Fremont's hand in farewell.

"I may soon put them to the test," smiled back Fremont, "by giving them an opportunity to vote for me, when we get our state goverment organized."

"You sure can count on all our votes," declared Thure eagerly; "that is, as soon as Bud and I are old enough to vote."

"Thank you," laughed Fremont, and added quickly, his face sobering. "And it is an honor to any man to receive the votes of men like your fathers and Ham here and you two boys, even in prospect, an honor, that, believe me, I appreciate," and the light in his forceful eyes deepened, as if he were seeing visions of the future. "But, I must be off. Remember me to your fathers and to all the others," and he sprang lightly on to the back of his horse, near which he had been standing during these words, and galloped off down the street toward the ferry.



CHAPTER XIII

EXPLANATIONS

"Wal, now," and Ham turned a puzzled and frowning face on the two boys, the moment Colonel Fremont had vanished down the street, "what are you tew yunks a-dewin' in Sacremento City? A-tryin' tew git yur necks stretched, you blamed idgits? I'll be durned, if I wouldn't like tew spank both on you!" and the frown on his face deepened. "I—"

"Oh, Ham," broke in Thure excitedly, "we've got the most wonderful story to tell! And it all comes from that murdered miner, who, before he died, told us about a wonderfully rich mine that he had discovered; and it was to get the map to this mine that those two dreadful men tried to get us hanged—"

"Whoa—up! Jest pull up y'ur hosses a bit," and Ham stared in astonishment at the excited boy. "You're a-goin' tew fast for me tew keep up. Come 'long back intew th' hotel, an' tell me y'ur story straight, not in jerks an' chunks," and he led the way back into the City Hotel, and to a quiet corner in the big waiting-room, where they could talk undisturbed and unheard.

Here, in low but excited voices and after exacting promises of the utmost secrecy, Thure and Bud told their wonderful story to Ham.

"Wal, I'll be tee-totally durned, if it don't sound good!" declared that worthy, when, at last, the tale had been completed. "But thar's lots of mighty good soundin' yarns goin' 'round camp, 'bout wonderful gold mountains an' caves of gold. Howsomever, I never heer'd tell on anybudy's really findin' any on 'em; an', I reckon, 'most on 'em is jest lies. But that thar map seems tew give y'ur yarn a look like th' truth; an', I reckon, them tew skunks must have believed th' yarn, or they wouldn't have ben so pow'ful anxious tew git th' map. Gosh, if it should prove true!" and Ham's eyes widened and his cheeks flushed and he drew in a deep breath. "I'll be durned, if it should prove true, if I don't go back tew my old home in Vermont, that I ain't seen since I was a yunk 'bout y'ur age, an' buy up th' old farm, an' build a big house on it, an'—Gosh, a'mighty, if that yarn of y'urn ain't sot me tew dreamin'!" and Ham came back to the earth, looking a bit foolish. "More'n likely it's all a lie; an' thar I was a buyin' farms an' a-buildin' houses! Queer how th' gold gits intew th' blood an' makes all humans tarnal idgits, now ain't it?" and he shook his head wonderingly.

"But, there's the map, and the big gold nugget, and all the gold that the murderers got from him," protested Thure. "He must have found some kind of a mine to have got that gold; and crazy folks wouldn't draw real maps of the gold-diggings they only imagined they had discovered."

"An' you've got that map, an' that hunk of gold with you?" and again the eager light shone in Ham's eyes. "Wal, I reckon I'd like tew have a look at that nugget an' map."

"But, not here," interjected Bud anxiously, as he glanced suspiciously around the big room at a number of roughly dressed men, who were standing in front of the bar or seated at tables playing cards. "I think that we had better wait until we get to our dads, before we show up the map and the nugget. We can't be too careful. Now, how comes it that you are in Sacramento City, Ham?" and the eyes of both boys turned inquiringly to the face of their big friend.

"Reckon you're right 'bout th' map an' nugget," admitted Ham reluctantly. "Leastwise I don't blame you for bein' some keerful after y'ur late experience," and his own eyes glanced sharply about the room. "Now, as tew my bein' here, that's soon explained. Y'ur dads an' th' rest sent me in tew git a load of camp-supplies—flour, bacon, sugar, coffee an' sech like things tew eat, 'long with some diggin' tools an' extra clothin'. Got in a leetle afore noon; an', heerin' thar was a murder trial on in th' hoss-market, I hit th' trail for th' market tew once, bein' some anxious tew see who was a-goin' tew have their necks stretched. Wal, if I didn't 'most have tew push my heart back down my throat with my fist, when I seed that you tew yunks was th' criminals!"

"But you made things hum, when you got started," and the eyes of Bud glowed with admiration, as they rested on the face of his big friend. "You just straightened things out in no time. My, but it did do me good to see you give Brokennose that punch on the jaw!"

"Same here," grinned Ham. "But it riled me all up tew have them tew curs git away. If ever I lay my eyes on either one on 'em ag'in," and his eyes glinted savagely, "thar won't be no need of no rope tew hang 'em, th' cowardly murderin' skunks!" and he banged his great fist down on the table so hard that nearly every one in the room jumped and turned their eyes curiously in his direction.

For a few minutes longer Ham and the two boys sat talking together, then Ham suddenly straightened up.

"Wal, if I ain't forgettin' all 'bout them supplies in th' excitement," he said, hurriedly rising. "Come on, yunks, I've got tew hustle an' make all them purchases afore night; for we've got tew git out of here afore sun-up tew-morrer," and Ham led the way out of the hotel, to where he had left a couple of sturdy little pack-horses tied to the trees, when he had rushed off to see the hanging.

An open space, under the overhanging branches of a huge evergreen oak, was now selected for the camp for the night; and hither Ham and the two boys brought their horses, and, after unsaddling and unbridling them, gave them a scanty supply of grass, bought at fifty cents a big hand full, and a little barley, at a dollar a quart. Then Bud, the two boys had drawn cuts to see who should stay, was left to watch the camp, and Ham and Thure started out to make the needed purchases.

The shops were crowded with men buying goods to take with them to the gold-mines, or diggings, as the mines were almost universally called, and paying for them with gold-dust, the name given to the fine particles of rough gold dug out of the ground, at the rate of about sixteen dollars to the ounce of gold. On every counter stood a pair of scales, with which to weigh the gold; and it was a curious sight to Thure to see these men, whenever they bought anything, pull out a little bag or other receptacle, take out a few pinches of what looked like grains of coarse yellow sand, and drop them on the scales, until the required weight was reached, in payment for the purchase. Ham, himself, had only gold-dust with which to make his payments; and it made Thure feel quite like a real miner, when he handed the little gold-bag to him and told him to attend to the paying, while he did the selecting of the goods needed.

By sundown all the purchases were made and carried to the camp and everything made ready for an early start in the morning.

After supper—they got their own suppers, all deciding that the food at the hotels was too rich for their blood, or, rather, pockets—Thure and Bud, boy-like, notwithstanding their weariness, wanted to take a little stroll about the town; but Ham promptly and emphatically vetoed any such a move on their part.

"I'll be durned if you dew!" he declared decisively, the instant the subject was broached. "You'll stay right here in camp, an' crawl intew y'ur blankets, an' git tew sleep jest as quick as th' good Lord'll let you. You shore have had all th' excitement you need for one day; an' th' devil only knows what trouble you'd be a-gettin' intew, if you was allowed tew run loose, promiscus like, about th' streets of Sacermento City at night. It's bad enough by day, as you sart'in otter know; but by night! Not for tew yunks like you!" and Ham shook his head so decidedly and frowningly that neither boy ventured even a word in protest against his rather arbitrary decision.

But, although they remained in camp, Thure and Bud never forgot that first night in Sacramento City. The scenes about them were so unique, so weirdly and romantically beautiful, so suggestive of dramatic possibilities, that they impressed themselves indelibly on memories new to such sensations.

As the sun went down a gray chill fog arose from the river and the lowlying shores and fell down over the little city like a thin wet veil, blurring and softening and reddening the light from the innumerable camp-fires, built under the dark shadows of overhanging trees, and the broad glows coming from canvas houses and tents, lighted from within, and the bright glares that poured through the doors and windows of the more brilliantly illuminated dance-halls and gambling-hells, giving to all a weird and dream-like aspect, fascinating, romantic, and beautiful.

Their camp was situated some distance from the center of the city's activities; but near enough for the sounds of its wild revelries to reach their ears, softened a little by the distance. A dozen or more bands were playing a dozen or more different tunes from a dozen or more different dance-halls, all near together along the levee and the neighboring streets; and, sometimes, high above even these discordant sounds, rose the human voice, in loud song, or boisterous shout, or peals of rough laughter. Around some of the near-by camp-fires men had gathered and were singing the loved home melodies; and from one of these groups came the voice of a woman in song, sounding singularly sweet and entrancing in the midst of all those harsher sounds. Above their heads a gentle wind blew murmuringly and whisperingly through the wide-spreading branches of the evergreen oak; and, at their feet, snapped and crackled the ruddy flames of their own camp-fire.

By nine o'clock the lights of the surrounding camp-fires began to grow dimmer, and the songs and the laughter and the talking of the groups around them ceased. All these were seeking their beds or blankets; and soon only the noise and the music, the songs and the shouts of the revelers broke the stillness of the night.

For a little while, before closing their eyes in sleep, Thure and Bud lay in their blankets listening to these distant sounds of wild revelry.

Suddenly, above the music, above the songs and the shouts and the laughter, rang out the sharp—crack—crack—of two pistol shots, followed by an instant's lull in the sounds; and then the music, the songs, the shouts, and the laughter went on, louder and madder than ever.

At the sound of the pistol shots both boys had leaped out of their blankets and stood listening intently; but Ham had only grunted and rolled over in his blanket.

"Ham! Ham! Did you hear that?" called Thure excitedly. "Someone must have been shot!"

"Shut up, an' crawl back intew y'ur blankets," growled Ham. "'Tain't none of our bus'ness, if some fool did git shot. It's probably some drunken row. Whiskey's 'most always back of every shootin' scrap. It beats me," and the growl deepened, "how full-growed men, with full-growed brains, can put a drop of that stuff intew their mouths, after they've once seen what it does tew a feller's interlect, makin' a man intew a bloody brute or a dirty beast or a grinnin' monkey; an' yit, th' best an' th' wisest on 'em goes right on drinkin' it. It shore gits me! Now," and he turned his wrath again on the two boys, "git right back intew y'ur blankets, an' shut y'ur mouths an' y'ur eyes, an' keep 'em shut till mornin'," and once again and with a final deep rumbling growl, he rolled over in his blanket and lay still.

Thure and Bud crawled slowly back into their blankets; and, at last, with the sounds of the distant revelry still ringing in their ears, fell asleep.



CHAPTER XIV

THE LUCK OF DICKSON

The next morning, a good hour before sunrise, Thure and Bud found themselves suddenly tumbled out of their blankets and the grinning face of Ham bending over them.

"Sleepyheads!" and, reaching down, he gripped each boy by his coat collar, the night had been chilly and both had slept in their coats, jerked him to his feet and shook him violently, "Wake up!" and, suddenly letting go, he sent both boys staggering from him. "Thar, them's my patented double-j'inted yunk-wakers," and he shook both of his big fists in the faces of the two boys, "warranted tew wake th' soundest sleepin' yunk that ever rolled himself up in a blanket, in seven an' three-quarters seconds by th' watch, or money refunded. For testimonials, see Bud Randolph and Thure Conroyal," and the grin broadened on his face, until it threatened to engulf all his features.

"It sure does the waking all right," laughed Thure; "and you can have my testimony to that effect any time you wish it."

For an hour all hands were busy, getting the breakfast, eating, packing and saddling and bridling the horses; and then, just as the sun, like a great globe of gold, rose above the gold-filled mountains of their hopes to the east and shone down on the waters of the Sacramento, Ham gave the word to start, and, leading one of his well-loaded pack-horses on either side of him, he strode off, headed for the rough trail to Hangtown, followed by Thure and Bud, driving their pack-horses before them.

As they passed along by the various camps in the outskirts of the town, a man, holding a long-handled frying-pan over the coals of his camp-fire, looked up and then remarked casually:

"Queer shootin' scrap that down on the levee last night!"

"Heer'd th' shootin', but that's all I heer'd," answered Ham, halting for a moment. "What might thar be queer 'bout it?"

"Both on 'em bosum friends 'til they gits a lot of French Ike's whiskey down 'em. Then one calls t'other a liar, an' both on 'em pulls their guns an' shoots; an' both on 'em falls dead, th' bullets goin' through th' heart of each one on 'em," answered the man.

"Hump! Nuthin' queer 'bout that!" grunted Ham. "That's a common thing for whiskey tew dew. Git up!" and he continued on his way.

The trail to Hangtown, after leaving the Sacramento Valley, entered the rough and picturesque regions of the western slopes of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, where the traveling was slow and difficult, especially with heavily loaded pack-horses; and, although the distance from Sacramento City, as the crow flies, was scarcely more than forty miles, yet it was not until near the middle of the afternoon of the third day that our friends came in sight of the rude log cabins and tents of Hangtown. They had climbed to the summit of a particularly rough hill and had just rounded a huge pile of rocks, when Ham brought his pack-horses to a sudden halt.

"Thar's Hangtown," he said, and pointed down the steep side of the hill into what was little more than a wide ravine, where a number of rudely built log houses and dirty-looking tents lay scattered along the sides and the bottom of the declivity and men could be seen at work with picks and shovels, digging up the hard stony ground, or, with gold-pans in their hands, washing the dirt thus dug in the waters of the little creek that flowed through the bottom of the ravine.

"Hurrah!" yelled both boys, taking off their hats and swinging them around their heads the moment their eyes caught sight of the houses and the tents.

"At last we are where gold is being actually dug up out of the ground!" exclaimed Thure enthusiastically, a moment later, as he sat on the back of his horse, watching, with glowing face and eyes, the men of the pick and the shovel toiling below.

"It shore does have tew be dug up out of th' ground, at least th' most on it," agreed Ham, grinning. "More diggin' than gold, th' most on us find."

"Oh, come! Let's hurry. I want to get to dad," and Bud started off down the hill excitedly, with Thure and Ham hurrying along behind him.

The side of the hill was seamed with small water worn gulches and strewn with rocks and the logs of fallen trees; and the trail down to the bottom wound and twisted and turned to avoid these obstructions, until it seemed to the impatient boys, that, for every step downward, they had to go a dozen steps to get around some gulch or huge rock or fallen tree; but, at last, they reached the bottom, and were actually on the very ground where men were digging gold out of the dirt.

"Now, where are our dads and the rest?" and Thure looked curiously and excitedly around him at the various groups of miners hard at work with their picks or shovels or pans or other washing machines. "I can't see anybody in sight that looks like them—Oh, there is Dick Dickson!" and he jumped excitedly off his horse and ran up to a miner at work near by, who was about to wash a pan of dirt, followed by Bud.

"Hello, Dick! Didn't know you in them clothes," and Thure held out his hand to the miner, whose only dress was a broad-brimmed hat, a red woollen shirt, and a pair of trousers.

"Glad to see you," and the miner set down the pan of dirt and gripped the hands of both the boys. "Had to come to the diggings with the rest, did you? Well, it's hard work; but the gold is here!" and his eyes sparkled.

"Are you going to wash that pan of dirt, Dick?" and the eyes of Thure turned excitedly to the pan full of dirt that the miner had placed on the ground at the sudden appearance of the boys.

"Yes," answered Dickson, grinning; "and it's the first pan that looks like pay-dirt that I've taken out of my new mine over yonder alongside of that big rock," and he pointed to a huge rock that jutted up above the ground a couple of rods away, where the boys could see a pile of dirt that had been thrown out of a hole dug down close to the upper side of the rock; "and so I am just a little anxious to see how it pans out."

"Don't—don't let us keep you from washing it," and Bud's face flushed with excitement. "We, too, would like to see how it pans out, wouldn't we Thure?"

"You bet!" was Thure's emphatic rejoinder. "I hope we bring you good luck, Dick. Now, let's see how you do it."

"All right. I sure need some good luck. Well, here goes," and with hands that trembled a little with excitement, for the washing of that pan full of dirt might mean a small fortune, he bent and picked up the gold-pan.

The creek was only a few feet away and Dickson hurried thither, followed by the two eager boys, while Ham, a good-natured grin on his face, stood guard over the horses.

Dickson first submerged the pan in the water and held it there until the dirt was thoroughly soaked, while with one hand he crushed and broke the larger lumps and stirred the mass with his fingers, until all the dirt was dissolved, and a great deal of it had been borne away, in a thick muddy cloud, by the current of the stream. He then tipped the pan a little, at the same time giving it a slight whirling motion, holding it with both his hands, which soon caused all the remaining dirt to float away in the water, except a little coarse black gravel that covered the bottom of the pan in a thin layer.

"Now," and Dickson straightened up, the pan in his hands, his face flushed with excitement, for already his eyes had caught the yellow glitter of gold, shining amongst the coarse grains of gravel, "we'll see how hard I've struck it," and he thrust his fingers down into the wet black gravel that covered the bottom of the pan, and moved them slowly about in it, bending his head down close to the pan, so that his eyes could catch every gleam of gold.

"Is there any? Is there any?" and Thure, in his anxiety to see, almost bunted his head into the head of Dickson.

"Is there any! Whoop!" and Dickson let out a yell that nearly startled both boys off their feet. "Is there any! Just look there! And there! And there!" and with a trembling finger he pointed, as he spoke, to little rough bits of gold, a little larger than pin-heads, that fairly flecked with yellow the bottommost layer of black gravel.



Thure and Bud shouted with delight; and Ham and half a dozen of the miners at work near by came up on the run, the faces of all showing the liveliest interest.

"Whoop! I've struck it! Struck it rich, boys!" and the miner, almost beside himself with excitement, swiftly gathered the golden bits out of the pan and spread them out on the palm of his hand where all could see. "A good ten ounces!" he almost shouted, as he tossed them up and down to test their weight. "One hundred and sixty dollars! And out of the first pan full of pay-dirt! Gee-wilikins, but won't this be good news for Mollie!"

"You shore have struck it, Dickson," declared Ham, who, with glowing eyes, had been examining the bits of gold on the palm of the miner's hand. "I reckon thar's a pocketful of it where that comed from," and he glanced toward the big rock. "That thar rock acted like a big riffle an' stopped th' gold a-comin' down th' stream that hit ag'in it. I'm mighty glad you've hit y'ur luck at last," and the big hand of Ham went out in a hearty grip of the miner's calloused palm. "You shore deserve it, Dickson."

The congratulations of all were equally hearty and apparently free from envy; but Dickson was too eager to further test his discovery to wait long to listen to congratulation; and, hurriedly pocketing the gold, he grabbed up the pan and rushed back to his "mine" by the side of the big rock.

"Supposing we wait and see him wash out another pan of dirt," and Thure turned his flushed face and glowing eyes eagerly to Ham. "I never was so much interested in anything in my life."

"You shore have got the gold-fever an' got it bad," laughed Ham. "An', I reckon, you're not th' only boy hereabouts that is a-sufferin' with it," and he glanced at Bud's flushed face. "Wal, I'm some interested myself in seein' how Dickson's luck holds out; so we'll wait tew see the washin' of another pan."

In less than ten minutes the excited miner was back with another pan full of the precious dirt, which he at once began to wash, his nervous excitement being so great that the pan shook and trembled in his hands. Suddenly, in the midst of his washing, he jumped to his feet with a wild yell.

"A nugget! A nugget!" and he held aloft in one hand a little chunk of solid gold, about as large as an egg and nearly of the same shape, only rougher in outline.

By this time quite a little crowd of miners had gathered around the lucky man; and handshakes and claps on the shoulders and verbal congratulations were showered on him from all sides, while the nugget was passed from hand to hand, with many wise and otherwise comments as to its weight and probable value and the likelihood of there being others like it where it came from. In the excitement caused by the finding of the nugget, the remaining dirt in the pan was forgotten, until Ham, suddenly remembering, turned to the excited Dickson.

"Better finish cleanin' out th' pan, Dick," he said. "Thar's probably more gold in it."

"Gosh, if I didn't forget it!" and Dickson grabbed up the pan and began washing its contents with feverish haste.

In a few minutes he arose and held out the pan, his hands trembling.

"There! Just look there!" he cried, pointing to the glitter of gold in the black sand that covered the bottom of the pan. "If there isn't a good fifteen ounces of gold there, then I miss my guess!" and he broke into a happy laugh. "Well, boys, my luck has turned at last! And there is a little woman up there in that little log cabin that has got to know about it at once," and Dickson dropped the pan and started on the run up the side of the hill toward a little log house that stood in a cluster of pines halfway up its side, followed by cheers from the miners, who appeared to be almost as rejoiced over his good fortune, as if it had been their own.

All this had been very interesting and very exciting to Thure and Bud; but now that the climax had been passed their thoughts turned at once to their fathers.

"Now," and Thure caught hold of Ham's coat sleeve, "now that we have seen how they get the gold from the ground, take us to our dads. We are more anxious than ever to get to them as quickly as possible."

"I'm pow'ful glad Dickson made that strike," Ham commented, when they were again on their way. "He's been workin' like a hoss for months, without hardly gittin' a sight of color; but he's had th' pluck tew keep a-diggin'. I reckon it's th' Leetle Woman up in th' cabin that's kept him a-goin'. She's pluck clean through an' has stood right by th' side of Dick, no matter what sort of luck fate dished out tew him. I shore am glad Dick has hit it for th' Leetle Woman's sake, as well as his own. Now, 'bout y'ur dads. That's their house up thar, 'bout a dozen rods beyond Dickson's. But, I reckon, we won't find none of 'em at home this time of th' day," and he turned his horses into a rude trail that wound up the side of the hill toward the little grove of pine trees, in which the boys could see the little cabin where Dickson lived and beyond that a larger log house.

During this time Dickson had been speeding up the hill, shouting and yelling the good news at the top of his voice as he ran. Suddenly the boys saw the door of the cabin thrown open, and a woman rush out and run madly down the rough trail toward the miner, her long unconfined hair streaming out behind her.

"Whoop! I've struck it! Struck it rich, Mollie!" they heard Dickson yell, while from down the hill rang out cheer after cheer from the little group of miners now gathered about Dickson's find and watching the meeting between the lucky man and the "Little Woman," as nearly all the miners in Hangtown called Mrs. Dickson.

A few minutes later Dickson and the "Little Woman," hand in hand, like two happy children, ran past them on their way down to the wonderful find.

Thure and Bud, and even Ham, cheered and yelled as they ran by; and the woman turned her shining eyes in their direction and waved her free hand and shouted a welcome to the two boys.

"I shore am glad that Dickson made that strike," Ham again remarked, with something that looked suspiciously like moisture in his eyes. "He's a deservin' cuss; an' th' Leetle Woman's ben like a mother tew us all."



CHAPTER XV

AROUND THE SUPPER TABLE

Ham's expectations were fulfilled; for they found the log house vacant, with a sign on the door that read: "BACK ABOUT SUNDOWN."

"Wal, jest dismount an' unpack an' make y'urselves tew home. We'll git things all straightened out afore we start out tew hunt up th' delinquents," and Ham began unpacking his horses.

But Thure and Bud had to have a look inside the house, before they untied a rope or unbuckled a strap; and, the moment they dismounted, they rushed to the door and entered.

The house was a very rude affair—just four walls of logs, roughly fitted with an ax and laid one on top of the other to a height of seven feet, enclosing a space some twenty-five feet long by eighteen feet wide, with a bark roof, ground floor, a door cut through the logs in the middle of one side, and three windows, one in each side and one in the end opposite the fireplace. The fireplace was very roughly constructed of stones and sticks, plastered together with a clay-like mud, and with the chimney built entirely outside of the house.

The furniture was in keeping with the house. The table was the split halves of a log, cut about ten feet long and laid side by side, with their flat sides up, supported by four short posts driven into the ground near the center of the room. The chairs were blocks of wood, set on end, reenforced by a couple of old boxes and two miners' easy chairs, a unique production, made by cutting down an empty flour barrel to something of the shape of an armed easy chair and attaching two rockers to the bottom. The seats of these chairs were often lined and stuffed in good shape and had the comfortable feel and rock of the more costly chairs of civilization—and what more need a miner ask? Along the side of the room opposite the door ran a double tier of rude bunks, one side of the beds being supported by posts driven into the ground and the other by the logs of the wall. On the wall near the fireplace hung the frying-pans and the other rude cooking utensils; and in a corner were piled the bags, barrels, kegs, and boxes containing their camp supplies.

When you are told that this, at that time in Hangtown, was considered a rather luxurious style of living, you may be able to form something of an idea of the kind of style in which the average miner lived.

"Well, they don't put on much style, do they?" and the eyes Thure turned to Bud twinkled with excitement and interest.

"Don't they! Just feast your eyes on this!" and Bud, dropping down into the soft seat of one of the "easy" chairs, leaned back comfortably and began rocking. "Now, if this isn't style and comfort, then I don't know what style and comfort are. Better try it," and he winked toward the other "easy" chair.

Thure at once profited by the suggestion.

"Well, I swun to goodness!" he declared, as he rocked back and forth in the novel chair, "if this doesn't beat mother's easy rocker for comfort. I reckon dad will have to make her one, when we get back home," and he grinned.

"Say," and Ham strode into the house, a bag of flour on one shoulder, a box of canned stuff under one arm, and a grin all over his face, "if you yunks think you've come up here tew dew nuthin' but tew set an' rock in y'ur dads' easy chairs, you've got another think comin' an' comin' quick. Now, git them packs off th' backs of y'ur hosses an' intew th' house. This ain't no Home of Cumfort for lazy yunks. Out with you!" and, dropping the bag of flour and the box in the corner, he started for the two boys.

Thure and Bud "outed" as fast as their four legs could take them; and soon were busy getting the packs off their horses and the goods into the house. When this had been done and the horses had been cared for, the sun was nearing the tops of the western mountains; and it was decided not to hunt up the "delinquents," as Ham called them, but to await their return at the house; and, in the meantime, to prepare such a supper for them as seldom blessed a miner's eyes and excited his appetite, from the delicacies Mrs. Conroyal and Mrs. Randolph had sent in the packs of the boys. Then, in addition, Thure and Bud determined to try and give their fathers, who, of course, supposed the two boys were still at home with their mothers and sisters on the rancho, a little surprise. By keeping a sharp lookout down the trail they could be warned of the coming of the men in sufficient time to put their surprise in operation.

Accordingly they got everything in readiness, first by tying their horses out of sight behind a clump of bushes and removing every outward sign of their presence, and then by drawing the two easy chairs up close together in front of the door and placing one of the blocks of wood used as seats in front of each chair. When they saw their fathers coming, they would take their places in these chairs, lean back comfortably in them, place their feet at a comfortable angle on top of the blocks of wood, and, thus sitting cozily in the two easy chairs, be the first objects to meet their fathers' eyes on entering the house. They fancied that this unexpected sight might surprise the two men some; and they were not disappointed.

Fortunately for the success of their "surprise," Mr. Conroyal and Mr. Randolph led the little procession of miners that appeared a few minutes after sundown, coming up the trail leading to the log house.

"Here they come!" cried Bud, who was stationed at the window overlooking the trail, the moment the men appeared in sight. "Hurry, Thure, and get into your chair."

The two boys quickly seated themselves in the barrel-rockers, perched their feet comfortably on top of the blocks of wood, leaned back comfortably into the hollows of their chairs, and fixed their eyes on the door, their faces shining with excitement.

At last the door was flung open and the big frame of Noel Conroyal, backed by that of Rad Randolph, appeared in the doorway.

For a moment both men stopped right where they were, and stood staring in blank astonishment at the faces of the two boys sitting in the two chairs.

"Walk right in," invited Thure, his eyes dancing.

"Yes, come right in and have supper with us," urged Bud.

For an instant longer the two men stood staring; and then both of them made a rush for the two boys; and, as they were almost instantly followed by Dill Conroyal, Thure's older brother, Rex Holt, Thure's cousin, and Frank Holt, Thure's uncle and the father of Rex Holt, you can imagine the excitement and confusion that reigned in that log house and how swiftly the questions flew back and forth for the next few minutes. The men had been away from their homes and their dear ones for nearly a year now; and, naturally, were exceedingly anxious to learn what had been going on during their absence. Suddenly, when the excitement had quieted down a little, Mr. Conroyal's face clouded and something that looked very much like a frown gathered on his forehead, as he turned to Thure.

"But, young man," and the frown on his face deepened, "how comes it that you are here, against my express commands? I left you at home to care for your mother and sister and the rancho. Why have you deserted your trust?"

"Oh, dad," and Thure turned excitedly to his father, "the most wonderful thing has happened! We found a dying miner, who had been robbed and stabbed; and he, just before he died, gave us a map that tells us how to find a Cave of Gold that he had discovered; and mother, our mothers, thought you ought to know about it; and so we are here, to get you all to help find this wonderful Cave of Gold. The miner said that the bottom of the cave was covered with gold nuggets, just covered with them, dad."

"And he gave us one of the nuggets, a whopper!" broke in Bud.

"And your mothers were foolish enough to believe such an improbable tale and to send you here on such a wildgoose chase!" and something that began to look very much like anger darkened Mr. Conroyal's face. "Why, the camp is full of such tales; but no sensible man ever pays any attention to them."

"But, dad, you haven't heard our story yet; and you haven't seen the map and the nugget," insisted Thure eagerly. "I am sure you will not blame us for coming when you know all."

"Well, my son," and Mr. Conroyal's lips tightened grimly, "we'll have a look at that map and nugget and hear that wonderful story of yours and then, if it doesn't look as if it might pan out true, back you will start for home at sun-up to-morrow morning. What do you say, Rad?" and he turned to Mr. Randolph. "The boys must be made to understand that they can't desert a trust like that at every wild tale they hear."

"Right," agreed Mr. Randolph. "They start back for home to-morrow morning, if their tale does not sound reasonable enough to make good their coming. They were all the men folks left that the women could depend on; and the reason must be a strong one to justify their deserting them."

"But, we did not desert them," expostulated Bud. "They gave us permission to come, told us to come, because they thought you ought to know about the Cave of Gold and the map, and there was no one else to send," and Bud's cheeks flushed a little with disappointment and indignation.

"Wal, now," and the good-natured face of Ham loomed up between the two boys, "I reckon, if you all will jest take a look at that thar table, you'll stop y'ur talkin' and git tew eatin' some sudden. 'Tain't once in a dog's age that a miner in Hangtown can sot down tew a table like that," and Ham waved both hands proudly in the direction of the split-log table, on which he had spread out, with lavish hands, the cakes, pies, jellies, fruits, butter, eggs and the other good things sent from home, together with the results of his own more substantial cooking, fried bacon, nicely browned flapjacks, and steaming hot coffee.

"Whoop!" yelled Rex. "Me for the eat!" and, grabbing up one of the blocks of wood, he made a rush for the table, followed by all present.

That was a jolly supper. The sight of the unaccustomed good things to eat put everybody in good nature—and no wonder! for their eyes had not seen an egg or a cake or a pie or a hunk of butter, to say nothing of the jelly and the fruit, in Hangtown before for six months; and nobody knows how good these things look and taste, until they have been without even a smell of them for some months, and living on a steady diet of salt pork and beans and man-made bread. But, at length, as all good things will, the eating came to an end; and then, almost involuntarily, all eyes turned toward Thure and Bud. Their stomachs were filled; and now all were in the best possible condition to listen to their story.

"Now, for that dead miner's wonderful tale," and Conroyal turned to Thure.

"Jest wait a minit afore you begin," and Ham arose suddenly from the table. "We want no outside listeners tew this tale," and, hurrying outside, he made a hasty circuit of the house, to assure himself that there were no eavesdroppers. When he came in he remarked, by way of answer to the inquiring glances turned in his direction: "You will know why I'm so cautious-like afore th' yunks come tew th' end of their tale; an', I reckon," and he glanced around the circle of somewhat startled faces that surrounded the table, "afore they begin, we'd better have it understood by all that thar is tew be no talkin' outside 'bout this matter, that it's tew be kept as close as our own skins tew ourselves. It has already caused th' death of th' old miner, an' mighty nigh th' death of them yunks thar, as you'll soon larn, an' death is still hot on th' trail, so it's jest good boss-sense for us tew be cautious-like. We don't want no more killin's, if we can help it. Now, I reckon, you can begin y'ur yarn," and, seating himself, he nodded his head to Thure and Bud.

You may be sure that, after these ominous actions and words of Ham, there was no lack of interest in the faces now turned toward the two boys.

Thure began the story; and, helped here and there by Bud and often interrupted by the angry exclamations of his excited hearers, he told the remarkable tale, from the killing of El Feroz and the death of the old miner to their own startling arrest for murder in the streets of Sacramento City and narrow rescue from the hangman's rope by the providential coming of Hammer Jones and Colonel Fremont.

"And those two cowardly skunks got away!" almost yelled Conroyal, as he banged his big fist down on the table, his face white with wrath. "And after they had almost succeeded in getting two innocent boys hanged for a crime they committed themselves!"

"They sart'in did," answered Ham grimly. "An' what's more th' cunnin' devils like as not are still on th' trail of that thar skin map th' old miner gave th' boys. That's why I reckon we'll need tew be some cautious."

"But, where is this wonderful skin map and that big gold nugget?" cried Rex Holt, his eyes shining and his face flushing. "Let us have a look at them," and he jumped to his feet and leaned across the table, so as to be nearer to Thure.

"Dill, you and Rex just take a run around the house to see that the coast is still clear, before the boys show up the gold nugget and the skin map," and Mr. Conroyal glanced sharply toward the door and the windows. "As Ham says, we want no eavesdroppers in this case."

Dill and Rex at once sprang to the door; and, moving in opposite directions, each slowly made the circuit of the house, their keen eyes searching the surrounding darkness. They neither saw nor heard anything suspicious.

"Now, we'll have a look at that map and gold nugget," Mr. Conroyal said, as soon as Rex and Dill had returned and reported the coast clear. "Of course," and he glanced around the circle of faces, "it is understood that all that is said and seen here to-night is to be kept secret by all, whether or not the search for the Cave of Gold is made."

"Yes, yes!" cried Dill impatiently. "We're all in on it together and must not breathe a word about it to an outsider. We all understand that, don't we?"

All the heads around the table quickly nodded assent.

"Now, then, let us have that map and gold nugget," and he turned excitedly to Thure and Bud.

Thure at once thrust his hand under the bosom of his shirt and under his left shoulder and pulled out the miner's little buckskin bag. Then he opened the bag and pulled out the map.

"The skin map," he said, and, laying it down on the table, he swiftly turned the bag upside down and dumped the gold nugget down on top of it. "And here is the gold nugget."

For a moment no one moved; but all sat staring at the big yellow chunk of metal, shining ruddily in the light of the flickering candles, as it dropped from the bag and came to a rest on the skin map and lay there on the table in front of Thure.

"Gosh, that sart'in looks like th' real stuff!" and the big hand of Ham reached out and picked up the nugget and hefted it critically. "Solid gold!" he declared, his eyes shining. "Jest heft it, Con," and he passed the nugget to Conroyal. "Wal, I reckon you yunks have made good. Now, let's see what's on that thar piece of skin," and, picking up the map, he smoothed it out on the table and stared down on it, while as many heads as possible crowded close to his head and stared down on the map with him.

"John Stackpole, did anyone here ever hear of a feller by th' name of John Stackpole?" and Ham raised his head and glanced around.

"I know the man," declared Frank Holt, the father of Rex, whose snowy white hair gave him a patriarchal appearance. "I remember now. That's the name the fellow gave I saw in Coleman's store 'bout two weeks ago. He had a peculiar scar, shaped something like a horseshoe over one of his eyes."

"That's the man! You remember that queer-shaped scar over one of his eyes, don't you?" and Bud turned excitedly to Thure.

"Yes," answered Thure. "He must have just got back from the cave. What was he doing, Uncle Frank?" and he turned eagerly to Mr. Holt.

"Well, he certainly looked as if he had just come out of a cave," grinned Holt. "Clothes all in rags and dirty, and hair and beard all over his head, except his eyes and nose and mouth. But," and his face lighted up, "he seemed to have plenty of gold-dust; for, while I was standing there watching him curiously, he picked out a good suit of clothes and paid for them out of a bag heavy with gold, gold that was mostly small nuggets.

"'Struck it, pard,' and I saw Coleman's eyes glisten, as he gathered in them small nuggets, for the gold wasn't no Hangtown gold. Anybody with eyes could see that.

"'Just a pocket,' answered the man. 'But good and rich, for a pocket.'

"'Whereabouts might it be, if I ain't asking too much?' queried Coleman, who I could see was some excited over that bag full of little gold nuggets, as he placed the bundle of clothes down in front of the man.

"'Thank you,' answered the man gruffly, and, picking up the bundle, he hurried out of the store, considerably to the disappointment of Coleman.

"Now, I calculate, that must have been our man, for he certainly told Coleman that his name was John Stackpole, when he asked him if any message had been left there for him. I remember it all plain, because I got some excited over that bag full of little gold nuggets myself; but I didn't call to mind the name until Ham called it out."

For many minutes the map and the gold nugget were now passed from hand to hand and thoroughly examined by all, while the tongues of all wagged with excited comments and Thure and Bud were often called upon to repeat parts of their story. But, at length, Noel Conroyal, who had been elected President of the Never-Give-Up California Mining Company, into which our good friends, the Conroyals, the Randolphs, the Holts, and Hammer Jones, had organized themselves, stood up and pounded on the table with his big fist.

"The Never-Give-Up California Mining Company will come to order," he said, the moment the talking ceased; "for the purpose of considering the matter laid before it by Thure Conroyal and Bud Randolph and to determine what action, if any, shall be taken."

"Oh, cut out the big talk, dad, and just let's talk it over together," protested Dill a bit impatiently; for, when Mr. Conroyal assumed the office and the dignities of the President of the Never-Give-Up California Mining Company, he was apt to be a little formal and long-winded. "We don't need the formalities and they take up time."

"All right, if that is the wish of the company," agreed Mr. Conroyal good-naturedly. "I only wanted to get to doing something besides talking."