“Tell me what this is, Pink,” said Clancy, “and you can have it.”
The red-headed chap had pulled a short, thick bar from the bag. The surface of the bar was rough, and plainly it was of some sort of metal.
Ballard took the bar and weighed it in his hands; then he held it in one hand and rubbed the other hand over it.
“Feels like a chunk of lead,” said he. “Weighs nine or ten pounds, I should think. Wait till I strike a match and get a better look at it.”
The bar did not improve any upon being examined in the flare of a match. It had a brown, dingy look, and Ballard dropped it with an exclamation of disgust.
“Anything else in the bag, Red?” he asked.
“Three more bars, just like that one,” was the reply.
“I’d like to know why those fellows were taking so much trouble with that stuff. Looked to me as though they were running off with it.”
“That’s an easy guess. They’re a couple of thieves, Pink, and they’ve been stealing.”
“Where have they been stealing?”
“At the mine; there’s no other place handy where there’s anything valuable. Thunder!” The exclamation broke excitedly from Clancy, for at last the right idea had dawned upon him. “Pink,” he cried, “this stuff is bullion!”
“Bullion?”
“It’s a cinch. Those fellows were trying to get away with it, and we happened around just in time to block
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 proceedings. Say, old man, we’re starring ourselves to-night!”
“I thought bullion was gold,” observed Ballard.
“That’s what it is.”
“Well, gold is yellow. Strikes me this bullion is off-color a good deal.”
“Probably it’s base bullion—gold mixed with other kinds of metal.”
“I guess you’re right, Red,” said Ballard, after a brief period of thought. “Those two fellows stole the bullion at the mine—and left their horses here while they were doing it. We blundered on the horses, and then you cut loose with a yell that scared them into thinking some one from the Ophir Mine was ‘laying for them.’ They pulled out in such a hurry they lost the bag, and didn’t dare come back after it. It’s a case of blind luck. Now, let’s carry the bag to the mine and get the reward.”
Clancy dropped the one bar that had been brought out for purposes of inspection back into the bag, and began binding the cord around the open end.
“Wasn’t there something familiar about the voice of that robber, Pink?” asked Clancy. “Seems to me I have heard it somewhere before.”
“Come to think of it,” said Ballard, “the voice did have a familiar ring. Where the deuce have I heard it?”
Both lads racked their brains for a few moments. It was Clancy who finally recalled the owner of the voice.
“It was that pasty-faced Shoup!” he declared. “Lenning’s particular crony, Billy Shoup.”
“That’s right!” cried Ballard. “A job like this is about what we might expect of Shoup. But who was the other fellow? It’s so dark in here I couldn’t see much of either of them. The other fellow didn’t do any talking, did he?”
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“No; neither of them wasted much time in talk. I wonder,” and Clancy drew a quick breath, “if that second fellow was Lenning?”
“Why, no!” exclaimed the startled Ballard. “Lenning is night watchman at the cyanide works.”
“That doesn’t cut any ice. He might have got the job as watchman just to make this robbery easier for him and Shoup.”
“Those two wouldn’t work together, Clan; that is, not after what happened in the gulch.”
“You wouldn’t think so, if they were any other fellows than Shoup and Lenning. But you never can tell what those chaps will do. They may have patched up their differences, and got together for this piece of lawless work.”
“Perhaps you’ve hit it off, Red, but I wouldn’t be sure about it. Right now we’ve got to think of getting on to the mine. If Shoup and that other fellow should make up their minds to come back here and get the bag, you and I would be in a fine row of stumps.”
This was a point that hadn’t occurred to the lads until that moment. It helped to spur them on toward the mine with the bag of bullion. Each holding an end of the sack, they made their way out of the chaparral and back to the trail; then, looking behind them in the direction taken by the two riders to make sure they were not returning, they crossed the rise and started down the slope beyond.
At this point, three or four lanterns appeared at a little distance, bobbing around like so many fireflies. The lights, it soon became manifest, were converging toward a certain place—and that place was the ground on which Clancy and Ballard were standing.
“There are some of the miners, now,” said Clancy.
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“They’re coming this way, too,” added Ballard. “Aiming for us, Red, if I’m any prophet.”
“Listen!” exclaimed Clancy.
“Halt, there!” bellowed a voice, making itself heard above the stamps. “Don’t try to run, or you’ll be sorry for it.”
“Just as though we could run with a load as heavy as this!” said Clancy, in a disgusted tone. “What do those miners take ............