“Have you the papers?” asked Ruth quickly.
Mary looked nervously about her as though even then she was afraid of being spied upon.
“We have them, yes,” she half-whispered, and for a moment there stole into her face a look of grim resolution that made her look many years older. “And we are going to keep them. One of us,” with swift glance toward her sister, “is always awake when the other sleeps. We still have Dad’s shotgun, you see,” she added swiftly.
“You see we are trying to work the mine ourselves,” Ellen volunteered. She spoke as casually as though operating a mine were an ordinary occupation for young women of sixteen and twenty-one. “Old Eddie Jones is trying to help us, and two other miners that used to be friends of father’s.”
“We would do very well, too,” said Mary quickly, and Ruth liked the determined gleam in her eyes, “if it wasn’t for that old cave-in. We have to dig down through a lot of dirt and rock before we can reach gold. It’s pretty slow going,” she added simply, “if you haven’t the right kind of equipment.”
Ruth frowned with quick pity. She was silent for a moment, thinking deeply.
“You are afraid this man, Lieberstein, will get hold of your father’s papers and then lay claim to the mine?” she asked.
“Yes; and he will do it if he can,” returned Mary. “When we both have to be away from the cabin we leave one of the old prospectors here to guard the papers.”
“Just what have you to prove your claim?” asked Ruth.
“A map of the mine and signed papers proving that Dad was really the one who staked the claim,” said Mary. “We keep them all in—” she paused while the slow color flooded her face.