"Then we'll take the shortest way to the summit. I tell you, Tom, we're on the track of something rich. We'll take all this fellow's gold-dust, and he can't help himself. It'll be richer than any claim we've worked yet, if it pans out as well as I expect—eh, Tom?"
"I should say so, Bill," answered Hadley, with an expression of interest.
"I tell you, Tom," said Bill Mosely, complacently, "you were in luck when you fell in with me. We've done pretty well since we j'ined hosses, pard."
"I should say so—but," added Hadley, after a pause, "it would go hard with us if we got caught."
"We don't mean to get caught," said Mosely, promptly. "As for this new job, there's no danger in it. This man is down with a broken leg, and he can't help our taking his gold. The Chinaman's out of the way, and we've got a clear field. Take a good look, Tom, for your eyes are better than mine, and tell me if you see anything that looks like a cabin anywhere around?"
This inquiry was made some twenty minutes after they had left Ki Sing. They had pursued a circuitous course, or in half the time they might have been as near the cabin as they now were.
Tom Hadley didn't answer in his customary phrase, but instead raised himself erect on his mustang and looked sharply about him.
"Well?" demanded Mosely, impatiently.
"I don't see anything that looks like a cabin," said Hadley, deliberately, "but I think I see smoke."
"Where?" asked his companion in an eager tone.