"You see this man had a fight before he got the nugget, and he was too badly hurt to get off his course to find a pocket to bury his find," Elam hastened to explain. "Now, this canyon that we are in goes back into the mountains I don't know how far, and it was in this gully that the fight took place; consequently the find is buried right here alongside of this little stream."
"Who do you suppose that man was, anyway?" Tom remarked. "You have never heard of him since, have you?"
"Now, wait until I tell you. I don't know. But let us go ahead, and I will tell you what I mean in a day or two."
"What do you look for anyway, when you go off by yourself?" asked Tom. "If you would give us a pointer on that subject we might be able to help you."
"I don't mind telling you that I am looking for a trail," said Elam. "And it is so old that no one but myself would notice it. When I find that trail I'm a-going to follow it up. It isn't over ten feet long, for a man as badly hurt as that one was, aint a-going to go a great ways to hide a nugget."
"Do you mean to tell me that we are on his trail now?" exclaimed Tom in amazement.
"Certainly I do. I have found two or three places where he slept."
"Why didn't you speak about it?"
"Do you suppose I have come in here this far without following some trail? Of course not. Some of the marks he made are so badly obliterated by the wind and the rain, that you can't make head nor tail of them, unless you know what had been there in the first place. Why, I have found blood on the rocks where he slept."
"You're beaten, aint you, Tom?" I asked, when he gazed at me, lost in wonder.