"I believe this is the first night that I ever failed to sleep on account of business worries," muttered Reade grimly, as he strode away. "This may be a fine start toward becoming a nervous wreck. In time I may become as shattered as poor little Alf Drew. I wonder if I shall ever fall so low as to smoke cigarettes!"
For some minutes Tom plodded on through the darkness. He did not go toward the claim, but in the opposite direction. He walked like one who felt the need of physical exhaustion. Presently coming to a steep trail winding along among boulders he took to the trail, striding on at barely diminished speed.
At last, out of breath from the rapid climb, Tom halted and gazed down over the rugged landscape. "The gold is there," he muttered. "I'm sure of it. Oh, if we could only find it!"
As Tom stood, deep in thought, the face of his patient friend rose before him.
"I don't mind going to smash for myself, in a good, hard fight," Reade went on audibly. "But it seems a crime to drag Harry down to poverty with me. If I could only get him to go away I'd give up my own life, if need be, to prove what's under our ridge of Nevada dirt."
"Ye'll give up your life for less'n that, I reckon!" sounded another voice, close at hand.
Around a boulder Dolph Gage stepped into view, followed by two of his men.
CHAPTER XVI
THE MAN WHO MADE GOOD
"Good evening, Gage," Tom responded pleasantly, after a slight start of alarm. "What brings you in this section again?"