"No one shall ever know what you tell me," asserted Julian. "Did you shoot them?"
"Well, I couldn't help it—could I? We came up with them just before we got to Mendota. We rode right plump onto them before we knew it, and without saying a word they began to shoot. If they had had rifles, some of us would have gone under; but they had nothing but revolvers, and the first thing I knew something went slap through my arm, and I began to shoot, too. I got in two shots while you would be thinking about it, and then Mr. Banta looked through their clothes and got the dust. We went down to Mendota and reported the matter to the sheriff, and he sent up and buried them."
"It is a wonder to me that they didn't arrest you," said Julian.
"Who—me? What did I do? The men were shooting at us, and I was defending myself. It would have taken more men than they had there to arrest me, for any man would have done the same. Anyhow, we got your money back. Say! Don't lisp a word of this to Mr. Banta. He would go for me hot and heavy."
Julian was obliged to promise again that Mr. Banta should never hear a word of what Tony had told him; but that night he told it to Jack, who said that his "funny story" had come out just as he thought it would.
"You said you didn't want them to deal with the culprits here in camp, and you have your wish," said Jack.
Not long after that the miners, discouraged, packed up, by companies of half a dozen or more, bid good-bye to their associates, and struck out for other localities. Dutch Flat was "played out," there was no gold there for them, and they were going where they could do better. Some of them talked of going home, while others, whose "piles" were not quite as large as they wished, were going to try it again for another year. Mr. Banta lingered there for some time, and then he, too, astonished the boys by bringing up his tools and telling them that next day he would strike for Denver.
"And when I get there I don't think I shall stop," said he. "I have been away from my home in the granite hills so long that I won't know how to act when I get there, and I can't learn any younger than I can now. I am going as far as St. Louis with you, and then I shall strike off alone."
This put new life into the boys. As soon as it became known in camp that Mr. Banta was going away, a dozen others joined in with his party, and when they rode away from the camp the few miners who were left behind cheered themselves hoarse. The boys had been "to the mines," had met with some adventures while there, and they were ready to go back among civilized people once more.
Their stay in Denver did not last more than a week, and the boys were made to promise, over and over again, that after they had seen their friends in St. Louis they would go back there to live. Everything they had in the world was there, the Western country seemed to agree with them, and there they would remain. They had not yet completed their course at the business school, and when that was done they must look for some useful occupation in which to spend their lives.