Then this new tale was circulated—of a man finding a huge fortune—and immediately those about the countryside, forgetting the many times “wolf” had been cried before, dropped the tools of their trade and headed for the gold field. Shacks which had been deserted for years once again had occupants. Tents sprang up like mushrooms. Two gambling houses were already under way, and saloons, officially “speakeasies,” flourished. The law had wisely let the camp govern itself, except for supervision over crimes of violence, for it would need a garrison of soldiers constantly on guard to make a refined city out of Nugget Camp.
This was the scene that confronted the four riders as, with their three beasts of burden, they approached the gold field. It was evening, and miners, some of them with their wives and children, sat on upturned buckets or boxes before the doors of their tents. Lanterns were hung on poles for street lights. At the far end of the camp were the gambling houses and saloons, and from that quarter came sounds of revelry—the whining strain of a violin, the heavier notes of an accordion. A miner carrying a bag of food in his arms stumbled into a tent, evidently having made a visit to a speakeasy on his way home. Dogs ran about, sniffing at the pile of cans which were thrown behind some of the tents. The work of the day was over. The miners were taking their rest.
Teddy, who was slightly ahead of his companions, suddenly exclaimed:
“Say, isn’t that Gus Tripp in front of that tent?”
“Looks like him,” Roy responded. “Hey, Gus!”
The man turned his head, then sprang to his feet.
“Teddy! An’ Roy! Hey, Nick! Well, for Pete’s sake!” He ran over and shook hands heartily with the new arrivals, expressing his pleasure at meeting Silent. “Say,” he went on eagerly, “when’d you get in? Just now, hey? How’s everybody back home?”
“O. K.,” Roy answered. “We got that bunch of beeves off to Chicago, and things are sort of quiet now. That’s how come you see us here.”
“I’m sure glad you came,” the puncher declared heartily. “You know, Roy, I felt mean leavin’ the ranch that-a-way. But snakes, I had to! If I let a chance like this slip by—”
“I know,” Roy laughed. “Dad understood. Said he didn’t blame you a bit. Said he’d do the same thing himself if he could. How you making out?”