"The early trolley will be just about leaving Bennett Avenue with the day-shift for the Ohio," he announced. "One of us must catch that car back to town to start a string of freight teams up here with men and material. Minutes now are worth days next week. I'm the freshest one of the bunch, and I'll go, if you two fellows think you can hold your own against this mob that is coming. You won't have to do any fighting, unless it's to keep them out of our shaft. Let them drive their stakes wherever they like, only, if they get on our ground, make your legal protest—the two of you together, so you can swear straight when it comes into the courts."
We both said we would do or die, and Barrett struggled into his coat and fled for the trolley terminal a mile away. He was scarcely out of sight over the crest of the spur when the advance guard of the mob came boiling up out of the gulch. A squad of three outran the others, and its spokesman made scant show of ceremony.
"We want to see what you got in that shaft," he panted. "Yank them boards off and show us."
"I guess not," said Gifford, fingering the lock of Barrett's shot-gun. Then, suddenly taking the aggressive: "You fellers looking for a mine? Well, by cripes, you get off of our ground and stay off, or you'll find one startin' up inside of you in a holy minute! We mean business!"
The three men cursed us like pickpockets, but they backed away until they stood on the other side of our boundary, where they were presently joined by half a dozen others. We had one point in our favor. In such a rush it is every man for himself, with a broad invitation to the devil to take the hindmost. Somebody called the fellow who wanted to break into our shaft for the needful evidence a much-emphasized jackass, and pointed to the wagon-tracks leading straight to our shack.
"What more do you want than them tracks?" bellowed this caller of hard names. And then: "Anybody in this crowd got a map?"
Nobody had, as it seemed; whereupon the bellower turned upon us.
"You fellers 've got one, it stands to reason. If you've got any sportin' blood in you at all, you'll be sort o' half-way human and give us a squint at it."
Again Gifford took the words out of my mouth. "Not to-day," he refused coolly. "If you want to know right bad, I'll tell you straight that there isn't anything like a whole claim left in this gulch. Now go ahead and do your stakin' if you want to, but keep off of us. You can see all our lines; they're as plain as the nose on your ugly face. I've got only one thing to say, and that is, the man that stakes inside of 'em is goin' to stop a handful of blue whistlers."
Following this there was a jangling confab which was almost a riot. Two or three, and among them the man who wanted us to show our map, openly counseled violence. We were but two, and there were by this time a dozen against us, with more coming up the gulch. They could have rushed us easily—at some little cost of life, maybe—but again the every-man-for-himself idea broke the charm. Already a number of stragglers were dropping out to skirt our boundaries, and in another minute they were fighting among themselves, each man striving to be the first to get his stakes down parallel with ours.