“I tell you what it is!” exclaimed Morris, as Wednesday morning brought no tidings, and the clouds began to break away, “if that kid, or somebody else, don’t show up to-day, I’m going to look him up. I oughtn’t to ’a’ been such a dod rotted fool as to let him go nohow.”

No one opposed an objection; in fact it would have done no good if they had, since Morris was his own master, while at the same time, every one hoped he would be saved the journey.

The two went to work after breakfast, as usual, in the tunnel, and rejoined Sandy, who had combined sentinel with kitchen duty, to eat a famous dinner about one o’clock. The sun had been out an hour or two, and the{180} creek had fallen so rapidly, that Max thought it might now be crossed at a pinch.

“Heard anything from our neighbors this morning?” the guard was asked.

“Not a word. I was a leetle suspeecious in consequence, and kept my een peeled as ye say out here, but I kenned naething wrong.”

“They’re up to some trick or other, you can bet your boots,” was the opinion of Morris, who followed his words by going out and peering through crevices in the barricade at the enemy’s fortifications.

He had no more than got there, when they heard him yell out in angry astonishment, and when they hurried out of the cabin were amazed to see him standing on top of the wall, rifle in hand, like a picture of Sergeant Jasper at New Orleans.

“Look there, will you?” he shouted, pointing down the ca?on.

The place where the trail was visible from the cabin was a stretch of about forty yards,{181} so situated between the cliff and the creek, that any one going up or down could not escape coming under rifle range from the fort. At its further end was the ford of the creek, which with the rise of the opposite bank could also be seen, a protruding bastion of rock cutting off all further view of the trail for a mile or more.

At the instant Morris had glanced through the crevice in the wall, he had seen his old enemy Scotty riding his horse at the top of its speed toward the creek, into which he was about to plunge, when he suddenly reined up, and seizing his rifle from the leathern sling, which held it balanced on the horn of his saddle, lifted it toward his shoulder. His horse, however, alarmed at the rapid motion, gave a shying jump, which nearly dislodged the man from the saddle, and the gun went off before any aim had been taken.

It was at this juncture that Morris had leaped upon the wall, and Sandy and Max had followed. Before they had time to speculate{182} upon the matter, there rushed into view down the opposite bank of the creek the stalwart, buckskin-clothed form of Buckeye Jim, leveling a revolver at the disconcerted horseman, who with quick presence of mind threw his hands above his head in sign of surrender and so saved his life,—“a great peety!” in Sandy’s opinion.

Close behind Jim was to be seen Lennox with a stranger whom nobody at first recognized; and a moment later Mr. Anderson rode into view, driving slowly ahead of him the horses of the other three.

Jim still kept Scotty under his eye, while the others mounted and waded the stream. The stranger approached Scotty and took his rifle away from him, while Len seized the bridle of his horse. Then the hands came down and were placed behind his back, where they remained as though fastened, after which the cavalcade started up the trail toward the mines.

“Scotty’s been handcuffed,” Morris ex{183}plained, when he saw these movements. “I can tell by the way he rides.”

Suddenly Max exclaimed, “They’re running right against the others’ guns,” and leaping over the wall he hurried, revolver in hand, straight toward the Aurora’s dump.

Divining his intention, the others followed him, stumbling over the slushy and rolling stones in hot haste, and rushed up the face of the enemy’s embankment like a storming party. They had almost as far to go as the others, and must make haste, breath or no breath. It was well they did so, for the first thing that met their eyes when they had reached the top of the dump, was Old Bob and Stevens lying behind two logs, guns in hand, ready to shoot the instant the approaching party should get clear of the last thicket.

Waiting for no orders or permission, Morris drew bead on the nearest man and fired, and with an awful cry Stevens sprang to his feet and fell back a senseless heap on the ground.{184}

Bob, thunder-struck, whirled round to find the three men above him and all hope gone. Dropping on his knees in abject terror, and green with fright, the miserable poltroon shrieked for mercy, and he received the boon with the contempt of his foes not only, but of his friends, for the captured Scotty at once began pouring upon his head the most bitter revilings.

Except to take away his gun and give him a kick, nobody else paid any attention to him, for all were hurrying to congratulate Lennox upon his safe return, to welcome Mr. Anderson, to be introduced to Buckeye Jim and the stranger, who proved to be a Deputy Sheriff from Denver with a warrant for Scotty’s arrest, and to clap each other on the back over the fortunate escapes and successes which had marked the last five minutes with so much excitement.

Until this hand-shaking had been gone through with, no one thought of the wounded man. The time had not been long, however,{185} and at first it was more needful to make sure of the living than to attend to the dead.

But was he dead?

“Na,” replied Sandy, who was the first to kneel by his side and place a hand within his shirt-bosom to feel if any life remained. “His hairt beats.”

“Glad to hear he’s got one; where is he wounded?” asked Morris, also kneeling by his side. “Oh, here,” pointing to where the blood was slowly dripping from the left arm of the prostrate and unconscious man.

“We maun cut away his sleeve,” commanded Sandy, who seemed to know precisely what to do, “or he may bleed to death.”

To slit up the sleeves of the coat and woolen shirt was the work of only half a moment, and the pain caused by the chill air striking the lacerated flesh, brought back consciousness in short order.

Glancing around the circle of strange faces, catching sight of the handcuffed Scotty{186} and ............