," exclaimed Merry, "from ledge directly to the
gap."

"And how much farther, Chip?" asked Clan excitedly. "Say, maybe we can
follow that trail and find where the fellow went!"

It was a startling proposition, and yet one that might be easily
demonstrated.

"We'll try it," said Frank, "but not till after breakfast. Come on,
Clan, and we'll take another fall out of our rations; then ho, for the
golden trail!"

As Merry spoke, a queer idea popped suddenly into his mind. He stopped
short and stared at Clancy. The latter evidently was fired with the same
notion.

"Ballard's dream!" muttered Clancy, rubbing a hand over his wet hair.
"Hang it all, Chip, this is quite a jolt to a fellow who isn't at all
superstitious. The golden trail! Why, Pink saw it three times hand
running, in his sleep!"

CHAPTER VIII.

WHERE THE GOLDEN TRAIL LED.

Merriwell was not superstitious, and had no patience with any one who
was. He was forced to admit, however, that a strange coincidence had
developed in the matter of Ballard's dream and the discovery that had
just been made.

"Pink dreamed of nuggets as big as washtubs," said the marveling Clancy,
"and they were arranged like stepping-stones, and stretched from the
professor's claim to Gold Hill."

By that time, Merry had got himself in hand. He laughed softly.

"Yes, Clan," said he, "I remember. These pieces of ore are not nuggets,
however, and if the whole golden trail was raked together, I don't
believe it would come anywhere near filling even a small-sized washtub.
And I'll bet the trail doesn't lead from here to Gold Hill."

"In the dream," went on Clancy, "Pink saw a gang of toughs chasing the
prof along the row of nuggets."

"Which is about as consistent as dreams usually are. If Professor
Borrodaile wanted to get away from the toughs, why did he keep on his
yellow stepping-stones? Why didn't he duck aside and hide in the bushes?
All foolishness, Clan. Let's go and eat."

Making their way back to Professor Borrodaile's old lodgings, the boys
ate a hurried breakfast. They were thrilled with the novel idea of
following the trail of ore, and, perhaps, of overtaking the thief.

"The fellow, whoever he is," said Clancy, "may be able to tell us
something about the professor."

"Everybody we run across out here is liable to be mixed up with the
prof's disappearance," answered Merry.

Before starting, the two motor cycles were gone over carefully. Only a
small amount