Talking to himself to keep up his courage, consulting his compass frequently, that he might not stray from the course in the least, the lad hurried on. Reaching the draw that the miners had described, he recognized it at once, worked his way around it and came back. He might have shortened the journey had he but known how to work out his course by the compass. Tad realized this. He told himself that he could not afford to try any experiment, however.
His judgment was verified, when, shortly after four o'clock he was gratified by sighting several pillars of black smoke.
"That's the place. I've hit it!" exulted the lad, breaking into a sharp trot, which he increased until he was running at top speed.
With clothes in a sad state of disorder, eyes red and sunken, Tad Butler burst into the Red Star mining camp. His sudden entrance caused the few people about to pause and gaze at him in astonishment.
"Where's Mr. Munson—Mr. Richard Munson? I must see him at once," he asked of one of these.
"He ain't here."
"What! Not here?"
"No."
"Then where is he? I must find him," expostulated the lad.
"Reckon you'll have a long run, then. He's gone over to the Mears mines. That's a good twenty miles from here, I reckon."