"I don't know. Where is it?" asked Tad Butler.
"You'd know if ye saw it once. It's a peak that looks red when the sun shines on it."
"No, I didn't pass the place. Tell me how I can get to the mining camp, even if you won't let me have anything to eat," begged the boy. "My companions will starve before I can get back unless I get help to them soon."
"Got a compass?"
"Yes."
"Then lay yer course north by northwest three p'ints and ye'll hit the Red Star plumb in the eye—if ye don't miss it," and the miner laughed coarsely. "Know anybody there?"
"Mr. Munson, Richard Munson."
"Dick Munson, eh?" returned the man, with increasing interest.
"I'll be going now. Much obliged for directing me, at least," said
Tad, turning away and starting with compass in hand.
The men said something to each other in a low tone, but Tad paid no attention to them, hurrying away as fast as his weary limbs would carry him.