“IT IS now between eight and nine years ago,” said Darius Darke, deliberately, “that I found myself at a mining district in California, then known as Rocky Gulch. With me was a man named James Gibbon. We had brought some money to California, and had greatly increased it by lucky investments in San Francisco. We were well fixed, but expected to increase our wealth in mining.”

“At Rocky Gulch we found several men at work, but the richest claims belonged to John Simpson and Robert Thatcher.”

“My father?”

“Yes, your father. We purchased the greater part of their claims, paying twenty thousand dollars.”

“Then my father’s share was ten thousand dollars?”

“Correct. It proved to be an unwise purchase. The claims were nearly exhausted, though this was unknown to your father and his partner.”

“I am glad father did not know this. I should not like to think he had defrauded you.”

“Your father thought he was giving us full value for our money. Presently Simpson and your father left Rocky Gulch, and a few days later my partner and I became92 satisfied that our claims were practically exhausted. Gibbon requested me to follow your father and Simpson, and, representing the case to them, plead for a return of some part of the money. I set out.”

“Fifty miles away I overtook the men of whom I was in search. It was on a bright moonlight night when I came in sight of the camp. Your father lay stretched out on the ground, and John Simpson was bending over him and rifling his pockets.”

“Is this true?” exclaimed Tom, deeply agitated.

“It is true as gospel. Beside the prostrate man was a large bag of gold dust, which Simpson had laid aside. Concealed from view behind a large tree, I watched, spell-bound, the nefarious work.”

“Why did you not dash forward, and help my father?”

“Because I was wholly unarmed, and I knew that Simpson was well armed. Again, I believed that, so far as your father was concerned, he was beyond help.”

“Was my father dead?” Tom asked, pale with emotion.

“I thought so at the time. I waited till the work of plunder was at an end, and then I uttered a shrill cry. John Simpson heard it and fled, in his fear forgetting the bag of gold dust. He never turned back, but, his fears increased by the thought of his crime, he fled as fast as his limbs could carry him.”

“I approached your father, and bending over anxiously sought to discover whether he was alive or dead. I discovered that he had been stunned by a severe blow on the head, but he was still breathing. I remained beside him all night.”

93

“Did he die?” asked Tom, anxiously.

“No, not at once. But the heavy blow had affected his reason, and though he opened his eyes, he did not appear to recognize me, or to understand what had happened. In perplexity I left him to procure assistance and food, but I had to go farther than I anticipated. I ought to say that I took the precaution to excavate a place in the earth, and store therein the bag of gold dust.”

“I was away a couple of hours. When I returned with two men whom I had found two miles away, what was my surprise to find that your father had disappeared. How I was unable to conjecture. He certainly was in no position to get away by himself. I next thought of the bag of gold. Was that gone, too? To my perplexity, I was unable to find the place where I had hidden it. If your father had remained where I left him, I should have had a clew. As it was, I was at a loss.”

“And you never found the gold dust?”

“Never. I ought to say, however, that I had but little time left for the search. I was in haste to get to San Francisco, for a good deal depended upon it. Gibson and myself paid for our claims partly in drafts upon a San Francisco bank. As soon as Simpson reached the city he would no doubt present them for payment. I wanted to stop them. I was unsuccess............