Chapter 18

AN UNFRIENDLY RECEPTION

Tad gazed at the gold digger in amazement.

“I–I don’t understand, Mr. Darwood.”

“Don’t you understand plain English? I said ‘git.’ We don’t want anything to do with you, and if we find you fooling about our outfit after this we’ll try something else to keep you away,” warned the prospector.

“I don’t know why you appear to have taken such a dislike to me. I am sure I have done nothing to merit it. However, I am equally sure that I don’t want anything to do with you. If you change your mind and can act like a man, instead of a kid, I shall be glad to see you. But don’t get funny. We may be boys but we are quite able to take care of ourselves,” answered Tad, turning away.

“Stop!”

Darwood’s voice was stern. Tad halted and turned towards the two men.

“You reckon you’re mighty smart, I know, but you must think I’m a natural-born fool not to know that you have been following us all the way up here.”

“What?”

“Oh, you needn’t play the innocent dodge. You know what I mean.”

“You–you think we have been following you?” questioned the boy, scarcely able to believe that the prospector was in earnest.

“I don’t think. I know. You’re like all the rest of them. We have had this thing happen to us before. There are plenty more like you, and they’ve followed us, hoping they will be the first to discover the bear totem and the claim that we are in search of.”

“Taku Pass?” asked Butler with a half smile on his face.

Darwood’s face flushed angrily.

“What did I tell you, Bruce?” he snapped. “Are you going?” he demanded, turning towards Tad.

“Yes. I don’t care to stay where I’m not wanted. But before going I am going to tell you something. We are not prospecting, nor following prospectors. We are taking our usual summer vacation on horseback. All I know about your affairs is what Captain Petersen of the ‘Corsair’ told me, and what I overheard from Sandy Ketcham. If you will recall I told you about that. The Captain gave me your history as far as he knew it, and I was much interested. How could I help being? I love adventure and so do my companions. We wanted to know more about it, but did not think it was any of our business until I overheard Ketcham plotting against you. We hadn’t the least idea we ever should see you again. My finding you this morning was a pure accident.”

“How’d you happen to do it?” interjected Dill Bruce.

“I saw your smoke signs last night.”

“What!”

Darwood snapped the word out like the crack of a whip.

“I saw your smoke signs. At least I suppose they were yours. This morning I started out, as I frequently do, in search of game. I smelled your smoke and out of curiosity hunted you up to see who our neighbors were. That’s all there is to it. If you can get anything out of that you are welcome to it. I wish you luck in finding Taku Pass. If I should stumble on it, I’ll look you up and let you know. We aren’t looking for gold mines especially. ’Bye.”

“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. Spotted Face did us a favor. He isn’t a crook.”

“I haven’t said he was. But you don’t know who is in their outfit now. Besides, there isn’t one chance in a thousand that they’d be so close on our trail unless they had followed us on purpose. No, this business must be stopped. We may be on the right track, and if we are we must protect ourselves, and we’ll do it, even though we have to kill a few curious hounds who are following the trail. The boy business may be merely a mask for the operations of some other persons.”

“Why don’t you find out, then?”

Darwood bent a keen gaze on his companion.

“What do you mean?”

“Hunt up their camp and see what is going on?”

“I’ll do it,” answered the gold digger with emphasis. “What’s more, I’ll do it now.”

“That’s the talk! If you hurry, you may be able to find the boy and follow him in. Shall I go along?”

“No. You stay here and look after things. I may be away for some time. I don’t know where they are, but I’ll find them if it takes all day. If our two comrades come in, you hold them here. Needn’t tell them where I am.”

Darwood shouldered his rifle and strode from his camp without another word. Bruce replenished the fire in order to make a smudge that could be smelled for some distance away, which was for the purpose of directing their companions to them, and also had served to call Tad Butler into their camp in advance of the other two gold diggers.

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. The gold digger was using his nose more than his eyes, sniffing the air for the smoke from the camp of the Pony Rider Boys’ outfit. He caught the scent after half an hour or so of trudging over the hard trail. From this time on it was easy so far as finding his way was concerned. Butler, knowing the way, had made much better time back to his own camp.

Breakfast was ready by the time he reached there. Tad did not mention his experience, not having decided what he would do in this matter.

“You find big smoke?” questioned the Indian as Tad stood over him by the fire.

“Yes,” answered the lad carelessly. Anvik shrewdly deduced that Butler had made some sort of discovery, but he asked no further questions. Perhaps the guide also had discovered that they had near neighbors. If so he kept that fact to himself.

The boys sat down to breakfast. They discussed the day’s ride and talked of their further journeyings, though Tad had little to say that morning. He was thinking deeply on what had just occurred.

The breakfast was about half finished when the lad flashed a quick, keen glance in the direction from which he had entered the camp. The others did not observe his sharp glance of inquiry. Tad had seen something. A movement of the foliage had attracted his observant eyes. He glanced at Anvik, who was sitting with his back to the party, gazing off over the mountains to the rear of them and through which they had worked their way to the present camping place.

Tad casually reached over for his rifle that was standing against a rock.

"What's up?" demanded Ned sharply.

“I want to examine my gun,” replied the boy.

“Funny time to examine it when eating your breakfast,” spoke up Walter.

“I prefer to eat,” said Stacy.

“We know that,” chuckled Ned. “No need for you to tell us.”

The Professor was eyeing Tad inquiringly, observing that the boy’s face was slightly flushed.

“What is it, Tad?” he asked.

“Nothing, except that I am going to take a pot shot at an intruder,” replied the boy calmly, suddenly leveling his rifle on the bushes where he had observed the movement a few moments before.

He pulled the trigger. A deafening crash brought the boys to their feet, yelling. The shot was followed by a shout from the bushes.

“Stop that shooting, you fool!” roared a voice. Tad put down his gun, grinning broadly, the others dancing about excitedly.

“Come out of that or I’ll give you something to yell at,” commanded the Pony Rider Boy.

Curtis Darwood Stepped Out.

Curtis Darwood, his face stern and determined, stepped out into the open and walked straight towards the amazed group now standing near the campfire. 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. That the boy whom he had driven from his own camp should have thus turned the tables on him angered him almost beyond his control. Darwood was so angry that he failed to see any humor in the situation.

“It is Mr. Darwood, isn’t it?” cried the Professor with face aglow, striding forward with outstretched hand. As in Butler’s case, Darwood professed not to see the proffered hand. He looked the Professor squarely in the face.

“Won’t you sit down and have a snack with us?” asked Professor Zepplin. “We were eating when Tad fired that shot. That was very careless of you, young man. You might have killed someone.”

“I reckon he knew whom he was shooting at,” answered the gold digger. “You see, this isn’t the first time that young fellow and myself have met.”

“Of course not. We all met on the ‘Corsair,’” spoke up Rector.

“He and I have met since then,” answered Darwood. “I reckon you know all about it. He came spying on our camp this morning just after daylight, and–”

“You know that isn’t true,” interjected Tad. “Why don’t you tell it straight if you are bound to tell it?”

The miner let one hand fall to his holster.

“Up in this country they don’t call men liars,” answered Darwood, looking Butler coldly in the eyes.

“Then men shouldn’t place themselves in a position to be called liars,” retorted Tad boldly. “You had better take your hand from your revolver. If you will take the time to glance at the rock to your right you may possibly see something to interest you.”

The miner cast a quick glance of inquiry in the direction indicated, and found himself looking into the muzzle of a rifle, laid over the top of the rock. Behind the rifle was Chunky, one eye peering over the sights.

Tad laughed.

“Stacy!” thundered the Professor. “What does this mean?”

“Nothing, Professor,” answered Tad. “Chunky got a little excited, that is all. You may put the gun down, Stacy. 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. Sit down and we will talk this matter over.”

Tad threw himself down beside the fire. Stacy still sat behind the rock, gazing suspiciously at their early morning visitor.

“I demand to know the meaning of this scene,” said the Professor sternly.

“Let Mr. Darwood tell you,” replied Butler.

The gold digger made no answer. Tad turned to the Professor.

“I will tell you what there is to it, sir. Mr. Darwood thinks we are like some others he has met. He thinks we are trying to steal his gold mine,” declared Tad in an impressive voice.

Professor Zepplin flushed deeply.