“Where’d they come from?” asked Uncle Tod, in surprise.
“Oh, just my reserve force,” laughed Mason. “I left word for them to follow us this morning. I thought we might need them, but I guess we won’t. How about it, Deck?”
“Oh, I know when I’ve had enough,” was the sullen answer. “But I’ll fight you in court!” he threatened Uncle Tod.
“Maybe he’ll win out against us after all,” whispered Sam, taking his usual gloomy view.
“Let him try,” chuckled Uncle Tod. “Anyhow I’ve got my Lost River back. Or I hope I have,” he added. “Do you reckon it’s running down at my mine?” he asked Mason.
“Well, you’ll soon see, for there’s no need of staying here. Deck and his crowd are going, and I don’t believe they’ll come back,” he added with a chuckle.
This proved to be the case. The outlaw—for he was so reckless and indifferent to the rights of others as to be called that—knew when he was beaten, and his men knew it, too. He talked big about going to law, but Uncle Tod was sure of his own claim.
“Well,” remarked Sam, when the excitement was over, without a shot having been fired, “this turned out better’n I thought it would. I’ll say that.”
“And it’s a good deal for you to say,” chuckled Uncle Tod. “But I’m anxious to get back to the mine and see if the water’s running. And those boys! What about ’em? Rick and Chot! Think maybe Deck Lawson and his crowd might have gone where we left ’em?” he asked Mason anxiously. “If they did—the boys—”
“No, I think not. But you can bring ’em here now. They’ll want to see the water running where it belongs—and it was their smartness that brought this about.”