“There was a safe in the place called the office,” replied Oliver.
“Yes; but he may have some place in San Francisco—”
“Guess not,” returned the guide. “I reckon you will find all you want right in that little building.”
“If we could only get hold of them—”
“I’d ride in and take possession,” continued Cottle. “If you have a right to the mine I wouldn’t wait a minute.”
“We have if it’s the right mine,” said Oliver.
“I can vouch for it that it is. I know every foot of the ground around here.”
“Here is the description of the mine,” said Oliver, producing the papers. “Listen, I will read them off;” and he did so.
“That’s it to a T, and no mistake. The Cortez is only a blind to the regular mine. I’d swoop down on him.” And the guide shook his head decidedly. He would have been better pleased if there had been a regular muss with a bit of shooting added.
“I wish I knew where the sheriff of the county was located,” began Mr. Whyland.