“Better go back, Jim. You’ll be all right as long as you stay in bounds, but if you go out there’ll be trouble; so I advise you to keep quiet.”
“Wait till I git hold of you, Tom Dalsett!” cried the miner, shaking his fist in the direction of his invisible foe.
“Oh, I expect to be here some time, so I’ll wait,” was the reply, and Nestor could only turn back.
Just before noon the miner called a council of war. He explained that it was very necessary for him, or some one, to get to a Government office and file a claim on the mine.
“It’s a case of first come, first served in this minin’ business,” explained Nestor. “Those chaps may be on the way now to register their papers, an’ if they are we’ll lose the claim. I’ll bet that’s their plan, an’ that’s why they’re keepin’ us cooped up here!”
“How far is it to the Government office?” asked Jerry.
“A matter of thirty miles,” replied Nestor. “It’s about five miles beyond where we turned up into this valley. But what’s the use talkin’? We can’t git away while they’re on guard with guns.”
“We all can’t, but one of us might,” suggested Jerry.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I will go and file the papers.”