“The old fool says I am after his gold. I figure he was giving you a line of chatter when I came up.”
“You weren’t under discussion,” Jack said dryly.
“What did he tell you about his wonderful valley?”
“Not much.”
“Leaving tomorrow?”
“We expect to.”
“That’s okay, then.” The motel owner seemed suddenly relieved. “If Old Stony bothers you again, call me. Good night now, and good rest.”
Chapter 2
TROUBLE IN CAMP
Cold night air seeped through the tent walls. Jack Hartwell stirred restlessly in his sleeping bag and sat up. What had awakened him? Beside him, Ken and Willie were dead to the world. All was quiet.
Annoyed at himself, Jack got up and opened the tent flap. A few stars were winking, but otherwise it was a dark night. It might be two A.M. or thereabouts, he judged. There was no sign of anyone around the camp, yet distinctly he sensed that something was wrong.