Little Cayuse did not like the prospect.
As he followed along after Bernritter, he became suddenly aware that the hoofs in the lead were being drowned out by a steadily increasing roar.
The mill-stamps! Ah! At last they were coming close to the Three-ply Mine.
The gully the two were following suddenly opened out into a wide valley.
At the entrance to the valley Cayuse drew rein; then, dismounting, he sat down on a boulder and watched Bernritter ride down into the camp and lose himself among the twinkling lights in mill, bunk-house, and chuck-shanty.
For a long time the boy sat there, watching the trailing plume of smoke from the mill, and listening to the clamor of the stamps.
Suddenly he was startled. Another horseman galloped past him. Cayuse and his pinto were a little to one side of the trail, and somewhat in the shadow. Fortunately they had not been seen.
The man was Jacobs. In spite of the darkness, the boy instinctively recognized the galloping horseman.
If the man was Jacobs, then Nomad must be somewhere near.
Eagerly the Piute waited, straining his eyes back along the gully.