It was indeed old Cap Slater who finally came to a halt facing them, and his appearance created such intense astonishment that hostilities were instantly forgotten.
All stared at the burly captain as though some apparition had suddenly risen before their eyes.
"Wal, wal, if there ain't actooally the old feller!" cried Pete in accents of the deepest wonderment. "I never s'picioned as how he'd be mean nuff ter hev went an' follered us."
"It's a great go, all right," said Jimmy, weakly.
"What does all this mean, Reynolds?" bellowed Slater, as his eyes ran over the group in a fierce, questioning stare.
"Means? Why, it means that these men have swiped a claim—a claim that rightfully belongs to us," spoke up Bob, as soon as his astonishment allowed him to speak.
"They hev, hey?" The answer seemed to put Cap Slater into a towering rage; he shook his fist violently in the air. "Ter think that arter all the trouble I has went to it were too late ter prewent this! It's nuff ter make a biled owl blink." Slater's tones, too, spoke volumes of disappointment and chagrin. "I want the hull story; an' I want it quick!"
"These two men, Smull and Griffin"—Bob pointed an accusing finger at the lumberjacks—"held us up and stole our map; and now they want to start a fight."
Captain Slater's face had darkened by degrees, until a heavier scowl had perhaps never rested upon it.
"The most disgracefulest thing I ever hear tell of! Never thought as how ye'd do anything like that, Jim Reynolds."
His voice roared above the steady drone of the torrent.
"Anybody else would hev done the same thing," mumbled Jim.
"I don't wonder yer voice has got weak. I'm a-comin' closer, so ye kin whisper."
Captain Slater eased his burly form from the saddle, shook a cloud of dust from his travel-stained garments, then strode up to the lumbermen. He stood before his former employees, a stern figure of a man, like the symbol of outraged justice. Under his steely glare they seemed to perceptibly wilt and shrink away.
"Now then, Reynolds," his jaws clicked ominously, "I'm a-goin' ter see fair play."
"This hyar ain't yer lumber camp, Cap," growled Tom Smull.
"I want nothing from sich as you. That little shrimp o' a Pete, an' Griffin, an' you orter be tied up together like a bunch o' herrin' an' dropped clean off the earth."
"When ye was cap'n o' a floatin' tub, it's a wonder every man aboard didn't turn pirate," mumbled Griffin, as he and Smull hastily fell back before this outburst.
"Ye'd look 'andsomer if ye'd let out a few reefs in that face o' yourn, Griffin," the captain replied grimly. "Now then—"
"Say, captain!"
Bob Somers stepped up and whispered something in his ear.
"Hey?" Slater's red face took on a bewildered expression. He turned, his eyes roving in all directions. "What, Somers?"
Bob spoke quietly a second time.
The captain's big, flaming handkerchief came out, to mop his face in a vigorous fashion.
"Roll me down a timber slide if—if—"
Words seemed to fail him; he paused, while Pete Colliver looked on in open-mouthed wonder.
"Hey, Jimmy, d'ye pipe that?" he exclaimed, hoarsely. "They're crawlin' a'ready—skeered."
"An' the old un has losted his nerve."
"Yes—bust it; an' his voice, too!"
"Git out, ye little toad. I won't hev ye a-walkin' on the same ground as I do. It's a positive wonder that grin o' yourn don't start a landslide big nuff ter kiver up all the gold. Come on, lads!"
The lumberman began leading his mustang away, while Bob, with a "Get your broncs, fellows!" started after his own, which stood close by.
Not far down the slope, in a little bowl-shaped valley washed at the foot by the swirling torrent, Bob Somers and Captain Slater, sitting on a boulder, awaited the others.
Dick and Jack were the first to arrive.
"Now, for goodness' sake, Bob, what does all this mean?" demanded Dick, impatiently.
"Just this: I believe Reynolds' crowd hasn't located the mine, after all."
"What—what—made a mistake? You don't—you can't mean it! How—"
"Ter my mind, I'll wenture ter say it's as sartin as that a bullfrog can't drive an ox-team," remarked the captain, solemnly.
"Hold on—wait a minute! Here come the other fellows," roared Jack, excitedly.
In a short time they were all together.
"Jehoshaphat!" cried Jack, when Bob had begun again. "Warble your reasons fast."
"Listen: didn't Wanatoma tell us the creek flowed through a level plain at the base of the mountain?"
There was a moment of thoughtful silence.
"I'm sure he did!" cried Sam Randall, excitedly. "I remember now. And all around us it's—"
"Hilly, to beat the Dutch."
"I don't know whether Wanna said the gold was at the point where the stream reached the base or not," supplemented Dave, "but he certainly did mention the fact that it was where Gold Creek took a big bend and that the land was level."
"Well, can you beat it?" gasped Tom. "Oh, if it should only be true! I'll bet the stream changes its course further along."
"Jingo! Perhaps we were just a little bit too quick in gettin' excited an' givin' up the game," murmured Jack. "Bully thought o' yours, Bob!" He seized Tom, and began to waltz him around, to the accompaniment of a very loud, unmusical whistle. "Hooray!"
"Remember that voice, Jacky!" cautioned Tim.
"Oh, my, oh, my! but wouldn't I laugh if Bob is right!" blurted out Jack, hilariously. "Come on—let's beat it!" Deftly tripping Tom, he deposited him in a heap on a patch of dried grass. "Come on!"
"After such an exciting session, I think a recess ought to be taken," demurred Dave, "unless Captain Slater wants the floor."
Dave's words instantly changed thoughts into another channel. All eyes turned toward the captain; a bombardment of questions pelted him from every side.
The former skipper waved his hand.
"Yer git nuff force back o' them woices o' yourn ter work a power boat," he remarked, slowly. "It's a long story, but it's quick told. How did I hear 'bout the mine? Wal, I'll begin at the beginnin'."
The boys listened to the captain's story with the greatest interest, punctuating his remarks at frequent intervals by exclamations. He told them he had ridden back to Lovell's camp, to give warning of the lumbermen's departure, and that the former had provided him with all the information he could—even a rough sketch showing the location. Lastly, Captain Slater said something which caused the biggest surprise of all:
"I hit yer trail once or twicet. 'Member that big cliff 'way back yonder?" He waved his hand.
"Bet your life," answered Jack, with a peculiar grin.
"Wal, I think I seen a couple o' ye from the top."
"Great Cæsar! Was that you?" cried Tim. "Why, the boys had a camp only about three-quarters of a mile from there. How in the world did you miss running into it?"
"I hearn shots a-comin' from the timber; thinks I, mebbe that's Reynolds' gang, so I gallops over."
"Guess it was Dave and I after game," volunteered Bob.
"Wal, I didn't see nothing but the biggest an' blackest bear in all creation." The captain grinned reminiscently. "The old nag can't stand nothing wusser ter look at 'n Tom Smull's face; so he up an' runs; an' splash me in that crick, if I didn't begin ter think he was a-goin' ter take me back ter the lumber camp."
The boys laughed heartily.
"I done the best I could fur ye."
The crowd's answer to this was so hearty and sincere that, for once in his life, old Cap Slater felt slightly embarrassed, and, to conceal it, he again mopped his face with the big red handkerchief.
They sat around for some time, and were on the point of leaving, when two mounted men suddenly appeared on the rim of a rise just above them.
"Sufferin' crickets!" cried Cap Slater, with a steady look. "Bart Reeder an'—an'—must be a circus nigh abouts, an', sartin sure, that feller's the ringmaster."
Mr. Buck James, looking very large and important, in his checkered suit and white vest, sat astride a small dejected-looking mustang, with his long legs dangling close to the ground. Bart Reeder, thin and small by contrast, followed on a dun-colored pony.
"Makes me think of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza," gurgled Dick. "Wondered where the two chaps had gotten to."
"I tell ye, Reeder, this here place is a frost," came from Buck James. "Outside o' one place what Smull an' Griffin acts cracked over, I ain't seen nuff yellow specks to—hello!"
His eyes had suddenly lighted on the party.
"As I live, Cap Slater!" yelled Reeder, in sepulchral tones. "Great Scott! Whar—whar—"
"Captain Slater—the old un I hear so much about?" queried James, interestedly.
"The identical feller," almost stuttered Reeder. "Whar'd ye come from, Cap?"
"Me aeroplane is hitched on to the moon till I gits ready ter leave," answered the captain, gruffly. "Toddle on! An' when ye gits done lookin' at me, checkers—"
"Sir!" said Buck James, haughtily.
"Sir to you, sir! An' I wenture ter say as how a suit like that is handy nuff when you wants ter hev a game, sir!"
"Do you know who I am?"
"I ain't pertic'lar to learn; my eyes is hurt nuff with them clo'es."
Uttering a loud guffaw, the captain turned away, and seized his mustang by the bridle, while Buck James, highly indignant, lost no time in riding away.
"Now, let's follow the stream and see if we can find that level stretch and another bend," said Bob, in low tones. "Hear what James said, Dave—a 'frost'? More I think of it, the more certain I feel they're—"
"Goin' to have an awful awakening," grinned Tim; "eh, Jack? Whoa, little codger!"
He sprang into the saddle.
One by one the bronchos clambered up a steep bank, and were presently cantering briskly over ridges patched with stunted spruce and sage brush. On one side lay "Mount Wanatoma"; on the other, a vast reach extending toward a distant mountain chain.
Gray, threatening-looking clouds, which had stretched all morning on the horizon, were now advancing, and gusts of chilling wind buffeted the riders with unpleasant force.
After about a half hour's steady march, Sam Randall, some distance to the right of the main body, halted, and his shrill whistle wafted over soon brought the echoing hoof-beats to a stop.
"Hello, what's the matter?" called Bob.
"Look—look! See anything ahead?"
Sam's excited tones instantly forced attention upon the distance.
"Goodness gracious! As I live—a couple o' horsemen!" cried Tim, with a whoop.
"Where—where?" demanded Tom, earnestly.
"Don't you see 'em—right by that group of evergreens? There—they moved!"
"Cracky! I believe you're right."
Tom seemed perfectly dumfounded.
"Mebbe a couple o' hunters," suggested Cap Slater. "We ain't quite off the earth yit."
"An'—an'—why, say—is that a bear they have with 'em?" blurted out Jack, his eyebrows knitting in perplexity. "Somethin' whoppin' big, anyhow. Where's your glass, Bob?"
An animal of no small proportions had suddenly popped into view beside the horsemen.
"What do you see, Somers?" cried Jack, eagerly, as the field-glass was leveled.
A very strange expression came over Bob's face. He stared, apparently in speechless astonishment, paying no attention to the impatient queries which came from all sides.
"I say," howled Jack, "can't you speak?"
"It doesn't seem possible," murmured Bob, at length.
His voice indicated the greatest bewilderment.
"What doesn't seem possible?" yelled Dick.
"I can't believe it!"
"Then don't, but tell us what it is," cried Tim, while Tom, highly excited, cracked his quirt so sharply that every broncho immediately began to prance about.
"Well," howled Jack, when the animals had quieted down, "for the last time, Somers—"
"Why—that is Mr. Lovell, Wanatoma, and the Great Dane," was Bob Somers' astonishing answer.