“Will he die?” asked Tommy, as he stood around, tearfully.
“Not this time,” replied Mr. Snodgrass, cheerfully. “The bullet appears to have only grazed the scalp a bit, but it probably gave him a pretty hard knock. He’ll soon come around right I guess.”
Mr. Bell was made as comfortable as possible, and, as there was nothing to do but wait until he became conscious, he was left in charge of his son. Tommy was told to call as soon as his father showed signs of awakening, and then the others surrounded Nestor, eager to hear about the mine.
“I guess it’s gone,” said the old prospector. “As I wrote you, the title seems to have some flaw in it, and this gang, which came from somewheres to the southeast, found it out, and served papers on me. It appears that there is a man missing who holds the key to the situation, and who owns the majority of the mine, but he can’t be found, and so our title is no good.”
The news depressed the spirits of all. They had been hoping that the trouble was small and temporary and that Nestor would find a way out. Now they stood to lose the mine they had struggled so hard to get.
“Did you resist their claim?” asked Mr. Snodgrass.
“You bet I did,” replied Nestor. “I went to court over it, but the judge said though it was morally wrong to put me out, yet the others had the law on their side, and he had to decide against me.
“I didn’t give up even then, for I barricaded the place and defied ’em to get me out. But the sheriff came and said that was no way to do. He had the law with him, and he said it would be his duty to shoot me if I resisted. He advised going to a higher court, and so, rather than have any bloodshed I gave up, and decided to camp out here until you came. I’ve been here about two weeks now.”
“Then the mine’s gone,” remarked Jerry, sorrowfully.
“We can try the courts,” said Nestor, hopefully.