"I'm alone."
"And it was great grit for you to charge the red skunks that way. However did you happen to do it?"
"I saw what was going on from the high land to the west with the aid of a powerful glass. I knew they had a white man trapped here. I struck the barranca and managed to get down into it, so I was able to ride close without being seen and charge up from this end, where it rises to the level of the plain. That is all."
"It was nerve, young man, and plenty of it! My name is Benson Clark. I'm a miner. Been over in the Mazatzals. Struck it rich, young pard—struck it rich.[Pg 170] There was no one but me and old Boxer, my dog. I took out a heap of dust, and I opine I located a quartz claim that certainly is worth a hundred thousand dollars, or I'm away off. Been a miner all my life. Grub-staked it from the Canadian line to Mexico. Have managed to live, but this is my first strike. No one staked me this time, so it's all mine. But see, pard, what black luck and those red devils have done for me! I'm finished, and I'll never live to enjoy a dollar of my wealth. Pretty tough, eh?"
"Pretty tough," admitted Frank Merriwell; "but brace up. Who can tell——"
"I can. Bens Clark is at the end of his trail. Young man, I want you to see me properly planted. You'll find enough in the saddle-bags here and in the belt around my waist to pay you for your trouble."
"I want no pay, sir."
"Well, I reckon you may as well have it, as I have neither kith nor kin in the wide world, and most of my friends have cashed in ahead of me, so I'm left all alone—me and Boxer."
The dying man lifted his hand with a great effort and caressed the dog. The animal whined and snuggled nearer, fixing his eyes on his master's face with an expression of devotion and anxiety that was quite touching to see.
"Good old Boxer!" sighed the man, with deep feeling. "You'll miss me, boy, and you're the only one in all the wide world. What will become of you, Boxer?"