“Thet’s the mystery. Sometimes Jack used to say that his little Jennie war dead, and then he would think that, after all, he would see her agin. He would say that a big pile of money was coming to her. And now he is dead, Harry, what is your opinion of that big bonanza which filled his mind at the last moments? Mightn’t it mean more than imagination?”
The young Vigilante admitted that Maverick Joe might be right.
“I really wish he warn’t dead,” and the captain spoke with a deep sigh.
“May be he isn’t,” said Harry, a ray of hope lighting up his eyes.
“I guess all ar’ gone—Jack, little Jennie, the big bonanza—all! And no man in Colorado hates it more than Maverick Joe.”
The man looked up as he spoke; they were nearly out of the gulch; a few rods further on and the gray streaks of dawn would burst upon them from the far-away horizon, cloudless and gray.
But, all at once, in tones that startled both horse and rider, rung out a single word:
“Halt!”
Reins and revolvers were instantly drawn.
“Form into single rank, an’ come on!” continued the same voice, which came from between two outstretched pistols. “I intend to hunt the big bonanza myself, and the throat of Tiger Tom is my property; it is not to be let out in shares. I’ve staked my claim, and I’m goin’ to work it alone. Form into single rank, an’ ride by. The first hand that goes up, drops.”