Chet bit his lip in vexation.
"Don't you know what it is to have us able to speak a word for you?" said Paul. "Supposing we let Jack Blowfen take you over to the next camp and tell the men that you are a downright horse thief? Would you fancy that?"
Jeff Jones began to tremble. He knew what Paul meant—that he would be lynched inside the hour. In that section of the country, at that time, horse stealing was considered almost as bad as murder.
"No! no! doan let him take me down ter de Fork!" howled Jeff Jones. "Anyt'ing but dat, boys!"
"Well, you, had better talk, then," returned Paul, severely.
"I doan know much, but I'll tell yo' all I do know," said the prisoner, after a short pause, "and yo' is ter do de best yo' can fo' me, promise me dat?"
"We will," said Chet. He was very impatient for Jeff Jones to proceed.
"Well, den, Captain Grady has been a-spottin' yo' uncle fer seberal weeks—eber sence he got Massah Winthrop ter leave San Francisco."
"Got him to leave San Francisco?" queried Paul.
"Yes. I doan know how de t'ing was done, but he got yo' uncle ter leave de city an' now he's tryin' ter make him gib up de secret ob a mine, or sumfin like dat."