When Dick Travers wrapped himself in his blanket and lay down by the fire, his thoughts, stirred into activity by the mysterious return of the packhorse, prevented him from sleeping. For some time he wooed slumber, then sat up, staring disgustedly at the crackling fire.
Like a flash, an idea popped into his head.
"If I can't sleep, it's no use staying here," he muttered. "Why not—"
Dick's head dropped, as Sam slowly approached, his form remaining as motionless as any of the sleepers until the sentinel again wandered off into the moonlight.
"I'll do it," said Dick to himself, his imagination fired with a brilliant scheme. "Yes, sir! And if I should find out anything wouldn't those chaps be surprised? Gee! It's a heap better than sleeping."
He waited until Sam was some distance off, then rose softly to his feet, buckled on his cartridge belt, seized a gun from the stack, and silently stole away.
Watching his opportunity, he found it an easy matter to avoid the unsuspecting Sam, a détour and convenient vegetation soon putting him beyond danger of detection.
And now that Dick was actually on the way, he began to have serious doubts.
"Bet Jacky 'ud call me a silly idiot," he reflected, with a grin, "but, sure as shooting, somebody brought that bronc back, and I might discover a camp-fire—it isn't likely, though. Still—well, hang it all, there's no sense in backing out now."
He found a certain pleasure in wandering about alone in the poetic moonlight, and also a feeling of danger which kept him keenly alert.
When Dick reached the spot where the packhorse had been found he came to a halt and studied the ground carefully, but his effort was unrewarded. Then he circled slowly around the bushes, sometimes on his hands and knees, hoping to discover some evidence of a trail through the tall grass. Still there was nothing.
With a muttered exclamation of disappointment, the boy straightened up and walked toward a knoll almost covered with tall cedars. Standing in their long, bluish shadows, he looked over the immensity of valley and hill, solemn and mysterious in the silvery sheen of the moon, with a strange feeling of awe and pleasure.
Almost forgetting his mission, Dick stood absorbed in its contemplation, when he received a shock which made his knees tremble violently.
A human voice had spoken, and the words, though faint, had reached his ears.
"I tell ye I did hear somethin', Pete Colliver; thar's some critter prowlin' 'bout."
"Pete—Pete Colliver!" gasped Dick Travers; "and—goodness gracious—Jimmy of Sellade!"
A whirlwind of thoughts began coursing through his brain. Now the mystery of the packhorse's return was explained; all their suspicions regarding Pete Colliver were confirmed—and in this startling fashion. What were the lumber-boys doing out there in the wilderness? There could only be one answer to that—tracking them.
For a moment, the queer mixture of feelings in Dick Travers' head made him almost dizzy. Then the familiar sound of Pete Colliver's voice steadied his nerves.
"Wal, let the critters prowl. Ye ain't skeered none, is ye, Jimmy? Mebbe 'twas them fellers a-runnin' ag'in. Ha, ha, but ain't they an easy lot? My, oh, my! Didn't I near bust a-tryin' not ter laff when they comes a-swingin' 'long ter see that hoss! Ha, ha!"
"I never seed sich ninnies afore," laughed Jimmy. "An' did ye pipe how the fat un could run?"
"Wal, ye kin jist bet I did; an' if I ever gits a-wrastlin' with 'im that's the way he'll beat it to the tall timber, Jimmy. Maybe the hull crowd o' 'em wasn't skeered o' me, eh?"
As Dick, not yet recovered from his astonishment, listened to these uncomplimentary remarks, his eyes flashed. But this feeling of anger lasted only a moment; a grin began to overspread his face.
"Dick, my boy, you deserve a real hero medal now," he thought. "I wonder what old Jack will say to this?"
From his position, Travers could tell that the two were very close to him—just a bit down the slope—and he listened intently as Jimmy began:
"If we's a-goin' ter get ter camp to-night we'd better be a-toddlin'. Guess old Jim Reynolds is gittin' peevish a'ready."
"Jim Reynolds!" gasped Dick. "Christopher Columbus! Why, that's one of Slater's men. Gee! Maybe it wasn't a good thing I couldn't sleep! Isn't this a discovery, though?"
"That's what I'm a-stayin' out so late fur, Jimmy; I want 'im ter git more peevish. He ain't my boss, is he? Didn't I put 'im on to the hull thing, eh? Ain't me an' you took all the trouble to track them kids, eh? None o' the gang kin git gay with me; I won't stan' fur it."
"The gang!" repeated Dick, reflectively, with a start. "That has a dangerous sound."
The loud, incautious voices did not reach his ears again for some moments, and when he next heard them it was evident that the pair had started off.
Dick scarcely dared to stir from the obscurity, but, taking courage, he peered out, to see Pete and Jimmy some distance away moving slowly toward the valley.
"Now what's to be done?" murmured Dick, elated at his success, yet at the same time much disturbed by the thought that their plans were so rudely threatened.
His first impulse was to hurry back and arouse the boys; the second to continue investigations unaided, find out where the gang was encamped, and have all the glory of a brilliant bit of detective work to himself.
It was a reckless plan, but Dick Travers' eyes brightened as he thought of it; the lines about his mouth tightened, and, without further hesitation, the boy crept cautiously from the sheltering shadow of the trees and began moving after the slowly retreating forms.
In the bright moonlight, his task was not difficult. He took advantage of bushes and clumps of trees, sometimes bending almost double, or dropping to his knees when the two figures in advance came to a halt.
Pete and Jimmy, totally unsuspecting, scarcely ever took the trouble to look behind them. Their course was far to the east, where the rolling slopes were more free from vegetation. Many times they disappeared from sight, but the eager trailer never failed to catch a glimpse of them as they reached the top of ridges and walked along their crests.
In three-quarters of an hour Dick saw a dense mass of timber not far ahead, forming a dark, irregular line against the sky. But what presently brought a stifled cry of exultation from his lips was a glimmer of light showing faintly between the trees.
"Hooray!" he murmured. "It must be their camp. This is the dandiest piece of luck. Great Scott! Won't the fellows open their eyes? And Jacky?—Gee! Bet he'll nearly flop over."
Paying little further attention to Pete and Jimmy, Dick steered straight toward the orange glow, scarcely stopping an instant until he was crouching well within the shadow of the timber.
It seemed very dismal and lonely. The network of branches met overhead and ghostly moonlight formed fairylike traceries upon bushes and trunks. In the gloomy, mysterious depths beyond perhaps many dangerous animals might be lurking.
Dick hung back, irresolute; then, drawing a deep breath, kept on.
"Gee!" A cold shiver ran through him. "This is risky business now."
The glow of the fire presently shone clear and bright, while a faint hum of voices came weirdly to his ears.
Dick moved with the utmost care, again dropping on hands and knees, crawling around underbrush and thickets, working along foot by foot, his heart thumping hard, as he saw the dancing firelight now sending its rays over the branches above his head. Twigs smote him in the face; trailing briars caught in his clothes, scratching with a force that made him wince, but he had the satisfaction of hearing the hum of conversation growing louder. Pete and Jimmy, who must have stopped somewhere to rest, had evidently just arrived.
"That sounds like a whopping big crowd," muttered Dick, excitedly. "Wish to thunder I could see a bit better. Horses, too, close about; I hear 'em."
At the imminent risk of being discovered, he had now reached a place where much that was said could be understood.
"So ye sure seen them fellers git that 'ere nag, eh, Pete?" a rough voice demanded.
"Bet yer life we did, Jim," came an answer, "an' they suspicioned, too, as how somebuddy had brung it back; Jimmy an' me hearn 'em."
"Let 'em s'picion," growled another voice; "an' that's all the good it'll do 'em. 'Tain't no use a-stayin' up no longer. Thought ye was a-goin' to take all night, Colliver."
"Oh, I didn't hurry none, Woodie. An' don't ye begin to hand out no sass, now. Yer gittin' ter be as bad as Jim Reynolds. Want us ter beat it, hey? Fur five cents—"
"Quit scrappin'," interposed a voice, in loud tones, "an' turn in. Them kids'll most likely be off by the time the sun gits up. That 'ere gold mine is as good as ourn a'ready, boys."
The conversation continued, while the eager listener tried in vain to gain a point of vantage which would enable him to get a view of the camp. As he stood in the shadow of a tree, and looked overhead at the spreading network of knotted branches, another bold idea entered his head.
"And a mighty risky one," Dick reflected.
However, upon studying the situation, he became convinced that he could climb the tree, take a quick observation, then hasten back to camp, having covered himself with glory. The temptation was too strong to resist.
Resting his gun in a safe place, Dick, with an earnest glance toward the fire, prepared for action. Clasping arms and legs around the trunk, he began to slowly work himself up. Active and muscular, the boy soon grasped hold of a sturdy limb about ten feet from the ground, paused an instant, and then, making one long effort, pulled himself safely astride it.
"Whew!" he murmured. "That's work, all right. The rest of it ought to be easy, though. Crickets!" The limb swung a bit, rattling its branches faintly. "Gee! I'll have to be mighty careful."
With infinite care, he crawled from limb to limb, at length reaching one which stretched directly toward the beacon of flaring light. Dick crept a few feet along it, his nerves tingling with excitement, pushed aside a bough upon which still clung a mass of faded yellow leaves, and peered intently down.
The faintest sigh of satisfaction passed his lips. A picturesque sight was before him. Lolling about beside a big fire were a number of men, their faces weirdly illuminated by the flames. Pete and Jimmy sat on a log, the former still talking loudly. Behind them, a number of bronchos were tethered, some scarcely seen amid the trees.
Eager and excited, Dick Travers was in the act of counting the men, when, to his horror, a loud crack suddenly reverberated.
As the limb began to bend beneath his weight, the boy barely managed to repress a cry of alarm.