“I thought I heard footsteps up the trail,” returned the old miner, “but I guess I was mistaken.”
“Why, who could it be?” asked Billy.
“It might very easily be some of Luther Barr’s gang prowling about. We are near the mine now, and they are no doubt determined to get the papers showing its location before I have a chance to file my claim,” put in Bart Witherbee.
The boys kept a sharp lookout after this, but they heard no more, if, indeed, there had been any sound, which they began to doubt, and soon after they were snug asleep in their blankets.
Suddenly Frank was awakened by shots and loud shouts. Springing up from his blankets he was amazed to see Bart Witherbee rolling over and over on the ground with somebody who seemed of immense size gripping him tightly.
The boy could hear Bart gasping for breath. He seemed as if he were being crushed.
Frank’s shouts awakened the others.
“Robbers!” cried Billy.
“Indians!” yelled Harry.
“Murderers!” cried old Mr. Joyce, as their sleepy eyes took in the struggle.