[CHAPTER XVII.]
OVER THE MOUNTAINS.
On and on the stream of miners hurried. Several paused to stare at the automobile in wonder. Others passed by with never a glance. One man was mounted on a lame mule that made but little better speed than some of the pedestrians.
Three men, who seemed to form a party by themselves, came to a halt in front of the machine. They whispered together a few moments and then one stepped forward and addressed Nestor.
“Will you sell that machine for three thousand dollars?” he asked.
“I’m not the boss. You’ll have to speak to one of these boys,” replied the miner.
“How about it?” asked the man of Jerry.
“I hardly believe we want to sell,” answered the latter.
“That’s right,” whispered Nestor. “There’s some game afoot. Don’t sell. There must have been a big gold strike lately to cause this rush!”