"Follow the stream and you'll strike me," said a voice, and Tom noticed that for a backwoods fellow he talked remarkably plain.
It was three weeks since Tom had seen anybody or heard anyone speak, and his eagerness to see where the voice came from was desperate. Throwing his gun upon the rocks, he broke into another run, and there, just as he turned around an abrupt bend in the canyon, he saw the person to whom it belonged. The speaker stood with his hat and coat off; his pick lay against a stone near by, and the shovel which he had been in the act of using when Tom's rifle shots fell upon his ears was standing upright in the ground; but he had taken precautions for any emergency, for he held his rifle in the hollow of his arm. Beyond a doubt somebody had been grub-staking him for gold, or for something else which he was equally anxious to find. Tom had just wind enough to take note of these things, and then he staggered to a rock near by and seated himself upon it.
"You won't find any gold here," said Tom, resting his elbows on his knees and looking down at the ground.
Tom's New Acquaintance.
The stranger uncocked his gun, and, bringing the piece to an order arms, leaned upon it. He looked hard at Tom, but had nothing to say.
"I have been all over this country, but not a cent's worth of gold could I find in it," continued Tom, taking off his hat and drawing his hand across his forehead. "Somebody has duped you just the same as they duped me."