Mile after mile rolled out from under the galloping hoofs of the horses. For a long time the three lads rode in silence, and it was Lenning who was first to speak.
“I think, fellows,” said he, “that I had better go directly to the mine.”
“Of course,” Frank agreed. “What you want to do, Jode, is to slip into your blankets at the bunk house and pound your ear good and hard. To-night, I suppose, you’ll have to go on duty at the tanks.”
“That’s right. The mail bags, though, ought to be taken into town as soon as possible.”
“I’ll see that they reach the post office in good shape,” said Barzy Blunt. “I’m the fast mail between Dolliver’s and Ophir this morning,” he added whimsically. “The mail’s twenty-four hours’ late, but it won’t lose much more time while I’m getting it over the road.”
“The professor’s check for twenty-five thousand ought to be in one of those bags.”
“Is that right?” asked Lenning.
“Yes,” said young Merriwell. “Mr. Bradlaugh got a telegram saying the payment for that mine in the Picketpost Mountains would be along yesterday. The professor was scared stiff when he heard of the robbery. He thought he had lost the money for good.”
“You were waiting for the professor to close up his mining deal before you left for the North, weren’t you?” went on Lenning.
“That’s all that has been keeping us.”