"Who is this Sam that was to get the bag of samples and take it to McGurvin's by a roundabout way?" queried Merriwell.
"No sabe."
"He's the fellow that had the leaky bag and dropped this trail of ore! Who's Turkeyfoot?"
"Feller that lives out o' Gold Hill a ways. Does freightin'."
"The way I size it up," said Frank, "the professor hired this Turkeyfoot to came to Happenchance with him and get the goods he had left there. They halted at McGurvin's place long enough to give Sam time to do his blasting and make off with the samples. Then the professor and Turkeyfoot went to the claim, got the professor's goods, and went back to McGurvin's; and there, fellows, the professor is being held until this man in flashy clothes comes out and does something to beat Borrodaile out of the claim."
"That's you," said Blunt. "To-day's Tuesday; and it's this afternoon that the business is to be pulled off. The thing to do is to hike for McGurvin's and nip the affair in the bud. Mac is on the side of the opposition, and so is Sam, and Turkeyfoot, and the flashily dressed juniper. That makes four, Merriwell, and there are only you and Clancy to see this game through. We'll help. That was part of the bargain, and we Bar Z fellows stand up to our agreements."
"We were at McGurvin's, last night," remarked Frank, puzzled. "There wasn't any one there but the rancher himself."
"Shucks," said Blunt, "you're easy. There might have been a houseful, and you none the wiser. McGurvin's so crooked he can't walk around his house without running into himself. Everybody knows that."
Merry's dark eyes began to flash,
"This is an outrage!" he exclaimed. "McGurvin, and all the rest who are working with him, ought to be arrested!"