Frank thought of the time when this old redskin had been his bitter enemy, when Joe had seemed treacherous and deadly as a rattlesnake, and smiled somewhat over the transformation. He had won the confidence of the Indian, who was now as faithful as he had once been dangerous.
"Did you see anything of the one-armed man who was with my pursuers?" asked Merry.
"No see him after leave you."
"He was sent away to follow you."
"No see him. He no bother me."
Frank was thoroughly well satisfied with the work of the faithful redskin.
They took turns at riding throughout the night. Three hours after dawn they came into a large, wooded valley amid the mountains. As they approached this valley they heard afar a rumbling, jarring sound that brought a smile to the face of Frank Merriwell.
"The stamps are in operation," he said.
Riding up the valley, through which flowed a stream of water, they saw reared against the bold face of a high mountain, looking like ant-mounds, some buildings, four or five in number. In the side of the mountain opened the black mouth of a shaft.