“I’d like to look them over, cap’n. Where are they?”
“If you will perambulate with me, I will present you to the bunch. I have them corralled not far away.”
“Lead on,” said Frank. “I will look them over.”
Wiley led the way straight to a saloon, which they entered. As they walked in, several men were drinking at the bar, and Merry distinctly heard one of them, a huge, pockmarked fellow, say:
“It sure is ten chances to one the gent loses his mine afore he ever sets eyes on it again.”
Frank recognized the fellow at a glance. He was a desperado with a bad reputation, and was known as Spotted Dan.
“There they are,” said Wiley. “Those fine boys I have collected. You can see at a glance that they are the real thing.”
“Altogether too real!” muttered Frank.
He was confident that the words of Spotted Dan referred to him, and in a twinkling his mind was made up.
“Mates,” said Wiley, calling the attention of the ruffians, “it gives me untold pleasure to introduce you to Mr. Merriwell, the owner of the mines I told you about.”