"I don't care what becomes of those horses," went on Tom. "Only I want my own."
"You shall have it, lad. But you must put us on the trail o' them thieves. It runs in my mind thet I know this Bill Noxton, 'though perhaps not by thet handle. Thar used ter be a hoss thief down hyer called Slinky Bill, with a scar on his cheek an' one tooth missin' in front—"
"That's your man. The tooth is still missing and the scar is there as plain as day."
"Then he's the gent as we wants to be introduced to," put in one of the other men.
"I calkerlated he had left these diggin's fer good," added the third newcomer.
"I can try to lead you back to their camp," said Tom, "although I am not altogether sure of the trail. They were stopping at a long, low deserted house, having a wide chimney, and with several big trees growing close by."
"Dillwell's old overland hotel, I'll bet a hoss," cried the leader of the men.
"It must be about ten miles from here," went on Tom.
"Jest about, youngster. Come, we want ye to go with us."
"I will do that willingly, if you'll promise to protect me from the rascals. I suppose they are mad enough to shoot me down on sight."