"The paper! The paper! Have you got Tom Edwards' receipt?" was the salutation that greeted Sam, as dozens of sturdy men gathered round and shook his hand.
He had prepared for this by taking the water-stained paper from the saddle-bags, to which he had clung through all his privations.
"Here it is!" cried Sam, holding the receipt aloft. "Here it is, and I will intrust it to Mr. Collins while I go to my father."
A rousing cheer went up from the men, and that cheer was heard in the dugout by Mr. Willett and Hank Tims, and reading its meaning aright, they raised their tearful eyes and thanked God.
[CHAPTER XXXVIII.—THE LAST, BUT NOT THE LEAST IMPORTANT.]
Si Brill heard the shouting, and leaving his friends—the prisoners—to care for themselves he fairly flew out of the ravine.
He saw his "pard" holding the paper aloft and he understood all. The glow of a well-earned victory came to his bronzed face, and he sent up a cheer that started all the echoes in the gulch into life.
"All is lovely, Si!" shouted Collins. "We got the receipt, and the boy's safe. Don't wait a second but take him to his father at once. His heart is jist a hungerin' to hold young Sam next to it."
"You're right every time, old pard!" shouted Si Brill.
Sam ran to him and he was on the point of asking where his father was, when Si caught him in his arms and gave him such a hug as would have crushed one of weaker frame.