"In the first place I am a broker and speculator from New York city. I make a specialty of mining stocks, and own shares myself in half a dozen mines.
"About ten weeks or so ago I heard through a friend in San Francisco that Barnaby Winthrop was trying to form a company to develop a new strike in this vicinity. I wrote to him and he sent word back that if I would come on he would prove to me that he had a big thing, well worth looking into.
"I had other business west, and so at once started for San Francisco. Your uncle had given his address as the Golden Nugget House, a place I afterward learned was frequented by old-time miners and prospectors.
"I made inquiries at the Nugget House for your uncle, and to my astonishment learned that he had disappeared very mysteriously one night, leaving no trace behind him."
"What!" cried Paul, springing to his feet, and Chet was too astonished to speak.
"I do not wonder that you are astonished. Yes, he had disappeared, leaving his valise and overcoat behind him.
"I thought the matter so queer that I was on the point of notifying the police. But on calling at the post office for letters I received one from him stating that he was sorry, but he had come back to the place in question and found it not what he had anticipated, so he wouldn't bother me any more."
"I don't believe he came back!" ejaculated Chet. "If he had he would have stopped at the ranch."
"I agree with you."
"Have you that letter?" asked Paul, his voice trembling with excitement.