“Come on! Tell us about it!” urged Ned.
“Yes, we’ve got our car here,” added Jerry. “Come on to my house, Jim, and give us the story.”
“I’m agreeable,” assented the mine foreman. “Harvey, let me make you acquainted with three of the liveliest boys in the United States,” and he presented Jerry, Ned and Bob.
“Glad to know you,” spoke Mr. Brill. “I sort of hate to leave these diggings,” and he glanced back at the tracks; “but if there’s a train coming I s’pose I’ve got to. But I can come back. It’s as pretty a bit of pay dirt as I’ve seen in some time. Now where’s the gasoline gig?”
“This way,” spoke Jerry, leading his chums and friends through the throng. Mr. Hitter was having trouble. The crowd pressed across the tracks, eager to look at the place where the two miners had been digging.
“Get back! Get back!” cried the agent. “The express is coming!”
He fairly thrust the curious ones off the track as the whistle of the approaching train was heard. Into the auto hurried the boys and their friends and, forbearing to question Mr. Nestor and his acquaintance on the road, Jerry and his chums soon had them at his house.
“Now tell us all about it!” urged the tall lad. “Why are you here, Jim; and what do you want us to do?”
“What do I want you to do?” repeated Jim, slowly. “Well, I’ll tell you. I want you to help my friend here—Harvey Brill—recover sixty nuggets of gold.”
“Sixty nuggets of gold?” repeated the motor boys, in a chorus.