Quick time was made across the plain for that two miles.
As they drew nearer the camp it was easy to see that it was the same party of prospectors under Silver Sam, only this time they were heavily reinforced.
Fully a hundred men of all types were gathered in the sycamore grove.
There were half-breeds and Texans, Irishmen, Frenchmen and Americans, all in a conglomerated mass. But there was not a greaser among them.
They were all men from various walks of life come West to seek a fortune in the mines.
As the Steam Man came up the tall form of Silver Sam was seen advancing.
The sport was evidently overjoyed to meet Frank again.
“Hello, friend!” he cried, cheerily. “Condemned glad to see ye! We’re back agin, ye see, and we’ve got more men this time. We mean to paralyze those greasers or lose our scalps.”
“I am glad to see you,” said Frank, coming out of the cage. “Indeed, it looks as if you meant business.”
“Yes, there’s a hundred of us more or less. They say Costello has three times as many, but our boys mean business and ain’t goin’ to be backed down by greasers, you can bet.”