"But you see," explained the young engineer dryly, "it happens to be my business."
From under his coat Reade drew forth a folding camera. Quickly opening and focussing he held the camera close, pressing the bulb.
"That photograph will enlarge to almost any size," Tom declared. "Now, then, Gage, do you claim that this strip has been claimed by one, Pringle?"
"I do," scowled Gage, "and Pringle is our partner. We're going to work this claim with him, and you're trespassing."
"Is that Pringle's own signature?" Tom insisted.
"None of your business!"
"You've given me that same kind of an answer before," Tom smiled. "As it happens, this is our business. Gage, the writing of that notice looks exactly like your writing, and Pringle's alleged signature is in the same hand-writing. If you've signed Pringle's name—-and I charge that you have—-then that notice has no legal value whatever. Recollect, I have a photograph of the notice and signature, and that this notice in turn, so that you may remember that the writing throughout is the same that my photograph is going to reveal."
Jim Ferrers quickly came forward. Gage stepped squarely in front of the board holding the notice. But Tom took a swift step forward. Gage, shaking, drew back out of possible reach of Reade's fists.
Then, one after the other, the other members of Tom's party inspected the writing.
"Much good may it do you!" jeered Dolph Gage harshly. "You'll find that this claim is ours!"