"How about the strikes at Dizzy Gulch?" asked Mr. Hurd.
"I don't take much stock in 'em myself," replied the "oldest settler," who gave his name as Tom Judson. "Bloody Canyon is good enough for me. I've got a couple of nice claims staked out, and I've struck pay dirt."
At that moment there was the sound of several pistol shots.
"What's that?" asked Jed, looking around.
"Now take it easy! Take it easy, son," advised Mr. Judson. "That's probably only a gambler being rustled out of camp."
"Gamblers? Are there gamblers here?" asked Gabe.
"Gamblers? Well, I should swallow my grub-stake!" exclaimed the genial Mr. Judson, who seemed given to violent expressions. "We was overrun with 'em one spell. Shot two, hung one, and rid a dozen more out of camp on a rail, with a coat of tar and feathers. But they still pester us occasional like."
"Did one named Con Morton show up around here?" asked the old miner.
"Con Morton? No, I don't recollect any such high-sounding name as that. But you never can tell. They go by any name that suits their fancy, them gamblers."
"I'd like to see that Morton," murmured Gabe.