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Updated: June 27, 2025
I think Darwood must have found it later on and located a claim. He at least took from the mouth of the pass enough gold to make him a fairly rich man. This he hid away, awaiting a favorable opportunity to get away with it. Such opportunity presented itself while his tribe was away on a hunt in the fall for meat for the winter, and made his escape.
The Indian guide was the only person who had not gotten up when Tad Butler sent a bullet into the thicket fully six feet above the head of the gold digger who was spying on the camp. Darwood was more angry at having been discovered than being shot at. He had heard the bullet rip through the foliage above his head, and knew that the shot had been intended to stir him up rather than to reach him.
"Well, what d'ye think of that?" grinned the Pickle after Tad had left them. "I think somebody will get hurt if they don't leave us alone," growled Darwood, caressing the butt of his revolver. "I'm getting tired of this kind of nagging." "That outfit isn't nagging you," answered Bruce. "How do you know?" "They are nothing but boys. At least one of them is the right sort.
Tad went direct to the point of his story. "A night or so ago I chanced to overhear two men who were passengers on this boat talking of you and the gentlemen who were with you. They were planning to follow and watch you. They thought you had discovered the claim for which you have been looking for so long." Darwood shot an angry glance at the boy. "Go on," he growled.
Darwood for the first time realized that all the Pony Rider outfit was not in sight. "Either your friends will put down their guns and come out or we'll shoot," snarled Darwood, fixing his gaze on Tad Butler. "Are you so anxious to die, Curtis Darwood?" asked the lad calmly. Darwood flushed, but the four men lowered their rifles to the ground. "Mr. Darwood, I have something to tell you.
The miner's hands dropped from the rail. "I reckon you would better ask someone else. I can't tell you anything about the trail," replied Darwood, turning on his heel and striding away. "There, you've done it now," complained Butler ruefully. "Of course you had to break in and spoil it all. Now we shan't get another opportunity. Mr. Darwood is suspicious of us, and he won't talk with us again.
Mr. Darwood doesn't understand; that's all. Sit down and have a snack with us, as the Professor has asked you to do," urged Butler. "I don't want to eat with you. You know it. Don't you go to getting me riled or I won't answer for the consequences." "Neither will I," answered Tad smilingly. "We are easy to get along with unless someone treads on our toes; then it's a different story.
"I'll take you below now, my lad," said Dawson. "No, no. Not yet," protested Tad. "Wait. I want to think." "Who was the fellow who hit you?" demanded Dawson. "I I don't know," stammered Tad. "What did he do it for?" "I I don't know. "You aren't very strong on information, are you?" grinned the prospector. "I want want to see Mr. Darwood." "You can see him to-morrow.
The latter's face darkened, and he appeared not to have observed the hand that Tad extended toward him. "Aren't you going to shake hands with me, Mr. Darwood?" asked the lad. "I reckon you ought to know better than to ask it," returned the gold digger.
Tad was out of sight by the time Curtis Darwood got out, but Darwood was able to follow the boy's trail, though it was not an easy one. Tad had made no effort to mask his trail, but his natural instincts taught him to leave as few indications of his progress as possible. Darwood saw this. Instead of lessening his suspicions this fact served to increase them.
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