“My father?”
“Yes, your father. We purchased the greater part of their claims, paying twenty thousand dollars.”
“Then my father’s share was ten thousand dollars?”
“Correct. It proved to be an unwise purchase. The claims were nearly exhausted, though this was unknown to your father and his partner.”
“I am glad father did not know this. I should not like to think he had defrauded you.”
“Your father thought he was giving us full value for our money. Presently Simpson and your father left Rocky Gulch, and a few days later my partner and I became satisfied that our claims were practically exhausted. Gibbon requested me to follow your father and Simpson, and, representing the case to them, plead for a return of some part of the money. I set out.”
“Fifty miles away I overtook the men of whom I was in search. It was on a bright moonlight night when I came in sight of the camp. Your father lay stretched out on the ground, and John Simpson was bending over him and rifling his pockets.”
“Is this true?” exclaimed Tom, deeply agitated.
“It is true as gospel. Beside the prostrate man was a large bag of gold dust, which Simpson had laid aside. Concealed from view behind a large tree, I watched, spell-bound, the nefarious work.”
“Why did you not dash forward, and help my father?”