Once more silence settled down, but to the trained ears of the miner and hunter there came the faint throbbing that told an automobile was approaching. Nestor loosened the revolver in his belt and Broswick reached over for his rifle, which he always kept near him.
Nearer and nearer came the machine. It reached the level stretch on which the adventurers were encamped and then the speed of the engine could be heard to increase. Nestor threw some light wood on the fire. It blazed up brightly, and the miner quickly drew Broswick back into the shadows of a big oak tree.
“We’ll watch as they go past,” he said.
A minute later an auto dashed by.
“There they are!” exclaimed Nestor. “There’s that gambler, Pud Stoneham, and with him is Tom Dalsett, the man who knows where my mine is. I wonder how they got behind us. I thought they were ahead.”
“I reckon we can keep ’em behind if we want to,” whispered Broswick. He raised his gun.
“Hold on! we don’t want to murder any one!” exclaimed Nestor, in a whisper, knocking the weapon up.
He was too late, as the hunter had fired.
“I wasn’t goin’ to do any damage,” spoke the old man. “I only aimed to bust a tire. However, you spoiled my mark. The bullet went over their heads.”
“I thought you were goin’ to shoot one of them,” said Nestor.