“He must have planned his little trick for quite a while,” Silent asserted. “Look how he had everything figgered out. Why, even givin’ seven hundred bucks for the flivver was part of the plan. That would go to show he had struck it rich, or he wouldn’t be throwin’ his checks around so regardless.”
“I wonder if he did have a friend who saw me come out of his tent? I’ll bet that part was a bluff. An’ it blamed near worked, too! Wonder where Nat Raymond an’ Jim Casey were all the time we’ve been in camp? I thought sure we’d see ’em.”
“Away over on the other side,” Gus said. “We may see ’em yet.”
“Boy, we’re sure getting into the mountains now!” Teddy looked about him. “And whenever I see mountains I get hungry.”
Roy laughed, the first real laugh he had had since Bug Eye had ridden in with Nick and Allen.
“We’ll go a little farther till we strike a good spot, then camp. There ought to be a brook running through here.”
Darkness was nearly upon the party when it came upon the brook, which was probably the same stream that flowed near Nugget Camp. All dismounted and began preparations for the night.
Silent again assumed his role as cook, although there was little he could display his art with. Beans, bacon and bread, with coffee to drink, made up the meal.
The fire flared cheerily among the dark forest trees and the four gathered close around it, for the night was cool. They were well into the mountains that overlooked Nugget Camp. Somewhere about, they suspected, or hoped, Greyhound had his headquarters. As they sat talking, having finished supper, each rested his hand carelessly on the butt of his revolver.
“Sure is quiet,” Nick remarked. “Hope nothin’ disturbs me to-night.”