“I’m going after him,” Warner said.
Jack would not allow the rancher to trail the old man alone. Without taking time to change his wet clothes, he guided Warner in the direction his attacker had taken.
The sky was rapidly brightening. At the edge of the ravine they caught their first glimpse of the old man. He wore moccasins and moved with amazing swiftness over the rough terrain.
“Unless I’m mistaken, he’ll lead us to Old Stony’s gold,” Warner whispered. “Our best bet is to keep out of sight.”
Agile as a monkey, the old fellow scrambled over the rocks with the energy of a much younger man. He came at last, as the rancher predicted, to a pit opening that was covered by brush.
Not even glancing about, the man pulled the debris aside and dropped out of view.
“It’s a mine, all right,” Warner declared as he and Jack crouched behind the bushes, waiting.
“Stony’s caches of ore must be somewhere close,” Jack whispered.
Warner nodded. “Probably, unless this daffy old fellow has moved them. He has certainly been living here a long while, Jack.”
By this time the sun was up, and Jack’s wet clothing had begun to dry a little. But he remained cold, uncomfortable, and drowsy. He craved action.