gry
impatience, outsped his more stolid companion, and by good fortune came
upon Hardman while in headlong flight down the mountain path.

The latter tried for a time to make it appear that he knew nothing of
the abstraction of the gold from the cavern, but Tim would have none of
it, and gave him the choice of conducting them to the place where it
was concealed or of undergoing "capital punishment." Like the poltroon
that he was, Hardman insisted that his companion, Victor Herzog, was
the real wrongdoer, but he offered to do what was demanded, only
imploring that he should not be harmed for his evil acts.

Tim extended his hand and took the Winchester from Frank Mansley. He
knew it was loaded, and he said to his prisoner:

"Lead on, and if ye think it will pay ye to try to git away or play any
of yer tricks, why try it, that's all!"

The threat was sufficient to banish all hope from Hardman, who led them
along the trail a short way, then turned on to the pile of rocks beside
which Frank had seen him standing a short time before.

"There it is!" he said, with an apprehensive glance at his captor.

"Where?" thundered Tim; "I don't see it!"

No digging had been done by the criminals, but a bowlder had been
rolled aside, the canvas bags dropped into the opening, and the stone
replaced, as he quickly demonstrated.

"Count 'em, Roswell," said Tim.

Both boys leaned over, and moving the heavy sacks about so as not to
miss one, announced that all were there.

"And now I s'pose I may go," whined Hardman.

"Not a bit of it. I won't make a target of ye fer this gun, but ye
shall remain me prisoner till I turn ye over to the police."

Thereupon Hardman begged so piteously that the boys interceded and
asked that he be allowed to go, but Tim sternly bade them hold their
peace. The bowlder having been replaced, while he glanced around to fix
the locality in his memory, he ordered the captive to precede him down
the trail, reminding him at the same time that the first attempt on his
part to escape would be followed by the instant discharge of the gun.

Thus, as the long afternoon drew to a close the strange procession
wound its way down the mountain, the prisoner in front, his captors
directly behind, with Frank and Roswell bringing up the rear. The boys
talked in whispers, but said nothing to their friend, who was in such a
stern mood that they shrank from speaking to him.

They speculated as to the fate of Herzog, the