“What do you say? Suppose we go to ze riffle and wash out some gold.”
“Great Scott!” exclaimed Dick eagerly. “That’s not a bad suggestion. But Don Manuel won’t mind?”
“He will be very pleased—he has no use for ze gold.”
“And Guadalupe?”
“Long ago she would have killed you if you had gone zere. But not now. She very old, and all her people are dead.”
“And the white wolf? That confounded beast won’t interfere?”
“No, no. Ze white wolf stay near Guadalupe all ze time.”
“Then, by jove, it’s a bully idea,” cried Dick. “It gets me all right. We’ll turn miners, Pierre, and we’ll have a rare old sack of nuggets to divide when the time comes for me to go free. I’ll be better off in the end than if I were holding down my old job at the rancho,” he laughed gaily.
“I will find ze spades and ze pans to wash ze gravel. When shall we begin?”
“Well, wait now,” replied Dick, glancing reflectively at the roll of drawings. “I’ve got to send these plans away. I want you to get them at once into the hands of my friend, Lieutenant Chester Munson. He will know how to forward them to their proper destination.”