“Dad has made each of us a present of a light Winchester. They’re down at the station with the packs.”
“You probably won’t need the artillery. It’s the closed season for game, but it won’t hurt to have the guns along. If you get tired of carrying them, you can put them in the jack packs.”
Dick was nervously looking at his watch. It still wanted a full half-hour of train time, but we all know how that is when we are about to start out upon a wonderful voyage of discovery.
“Well, Uncle Billy,” he said, “I guess we’ll have to be moving along.” So the handshaking was repeated, and they were heading for the door, when the grub-staking uncle called them back.
“This is rather a humdrum job you’ve undertaken for the summer—looking for the industrial metals,” he said, with a twinkle in the shrewd gray eyes. “I’ve a mind to throw in a bit of romance, just for good measure. How would you like to keep an eye out for a lost gold mine—a real bonanza?”
“A lost gold mine?” Dick queried eagerly. “Who lost it?”
The ex-cowboy uncle was smiling quizzically. “It is a pretty long story, and if you’ve got to hurry to your train——” he began; but Dick cut in quickly.
“Tell us about it, Uncle Billy. We’ll catch the train all right.”
“Think you can take time to listen? I’ll make it short. Three years ago, James Brock, an old prospector whom I knew well, was found at the mouth of Lost Canyon, dying of hunger and exposure. I had him brought down to Brewster and taken to the hospital. He lived only a few days, but during that time he told me his story. He said he had discovered a fabulously rich gold lode in the Little Hophras, and, staying to work it, the winter had caught him. He had been snow-bound for weeks with little or nothing to eat, but had finally made his way out over Mule-Ear Pass, half starved and with his feet and hands frozen.”
“Poor old duffer!” said Dick sympathetically. “But go on, Uncle Billy. What became of the mine?”