For the time being nothing was done towards removing the gold. Si and Bob were anxious to see Mark get around once more, and soon they grew anxious to know what had become of Maybe Dixon.
As two days more passed, Si determined to go up in the mountain on a hunt for Dixon.
"He may have fallen over some cliff and been killed," said the former farm lad. "He said he would be back, and as he hasn't come he must be in trouble of some sort."
"Well, you look out that you don't get into trouble," answered Bob.
Si went out on foot, as Maybe Dixon had done, and tramped up the mountain, and along various trails for the best part of the day. Toward nightfall he met an old prospector who said he had passed Maybe Dixon two days before, bound for the gulch.
"He didn't tell me out and out, but he led me to believe that he had struck a rich find," said the old prospector.
"He didn't come back."
"That's queer. Perhaps he went back, to make sure about the find. Men sometimes do that, you know. They can't believe the evidence of their own senses at first—if the find is a very rich one."
Si did not know what to do. He camped under a tree that night and early in the morning continued his search. Then he reached a spot where somebody had eaten a meal and from the evidences strewn around knew that Maybe Dixon had been there. Footprints led along another trail from this point and he followed, up a hill and then into a patch of forest.
He had not gone far into the forest when he came to a rude shack, in front of which a campfire was smoldering. By the side of the campfire two men were talking earnestly.