“Hurrah! There’s Mike Malone on guard!” cried Ned, when, after coming within sight of the mine, he had peered through a telescope.
“Is he?” cried Bob. “Then, if he’s in possession, the lawsuit isn’t settled yet. There is some doubt about it, and we have a chance to hold our mine.”
“Unless Mr. Malone is there in the interests of Noddy and his gang,” put in Jerry.
“Not much!” exclaimed Jim Nestor. “You couldn’t hire Mike to work for that bully. You’ll find that the case isn’t settled yet.”
By this time they were within sight of the deputy sheriff, who had sprung to his feet, when he first had a glimpse of the airship, and was now wildly swinging his hat.
A safe landing was made, and, even before they had seen to the disembarkation of their refugee passengers, Jerry, Ned and Bob made a rush for the deputy, who was broadly smiling.
“Well, how about it?” panted Jerry.
“How about what?” inquired Malone, with provoking slowness.
“The mine—our mine—is it still ours?” spluttered Bob.