"Will you shut up?" howled Bluckburn, savagely. "You'll spoil everything."
"An' he'll save hisself from bein' lynched," added old Ike Watson, suggestively.
"We haven't done anything—you can't hold us," spluttered Bluckburn. He found himself in a bad corner.
"Holding a man a prisoner is nothing, I presume," said Allen, in deep anger. "Go on," he continued to Slavin. "Where is my uncle?"
Thus urged, Lou Slavin blurted out a full confession, telling how Barnaby Winthrop had been followed to San Francisco by Bluckburn, who wanted to learn the secret of the new claim, which Bluckburn realized must be valuable.
Slavin said it was Bluckburn who had sent to Barnaby Winthrop a forged letter calling the old prospector back to the ranch. The rascal had also forged the note received by Noel Urner.
Word had been sent by telegraph to the other members of the thieving band, and when Barnaby Winthrop got off at the nearest railroad station to the ranch he was followed and waylaid.
"The crowd had a mighty hard time o' it with him, he fit so," went on Slavin. "Onct he nearly got away, but Captain Grady tripped him up an' then he war bound tight."
"Captain Grady!" ejaculated Allen.
"Thet's his size," cried old Watson. "I allers allowed as how he war one o' the shady class."