The boy was startled and looked eagerly at the nugget of gold, which was hidden by the tree limbs. Had the Mexicans seen him handling that precious bit of metal? If so, would they try to rob him of it?
The cold perspiration stood out on Mark's forehead. He felt in his belt and satisfied himself that his pistol was there, ready for use.
"They shan't rob me of it—I'll fight first!" he told himself, and set his teeth hard. Then he began to climb out of the gully, supporting the precious nugget under his shirt, next to his belt.
To his alarm the Mexicans walked toward him and one of them called out something in Spanish which he did not understand. He shook his head and continued to walk on, getting as far from them as possible. But they continued to come after him.
There was a patch of timber a few rods away, and toward this went Mark, leaving the regular trail and taking to a smaller one made by mountain deer.
As soon as he gained the timber he broke into a run, and kept this up until he was all but exhausted. Then he came out at a spot directly above the camp and shouted loudly to Bob and Si, who chanced to be working within hearing distance.
"What's up, Mark?" yelled back Bob.
"I want help. Come up, and call Maybe Dixon."
The old miner was not far away, and soon the two boys and the man climbed up to where Mark sat on a rock, panting heavily.
"What's the trouble?" asked Maybe Dixon. "Wild animals or Injuns?"