e time," replied the old miner, "but not now. I
would never have consented to come up here this morning with Ben if I had
not suspected that Mr. Williams intended to enter this tunnel very soon.
Perhaps you know how he hates me. I caught him in a mighty crooked deal
here once, and scared him badly. He and I have fought each other ever
since the death of your father. He holds the keys to this lock, that's
why I'm cutting it off. We're going to replace it with another. When your
uncle comes he will find I have been ahead of him."

"And you aren't going into the tunnel?" questioned Willis in
astonishment.

"No, lad, not to-day. I don't know as I ever will."

"Tell me all about the trouble between you and my uncle. How does it
happen that he holds the key to this lock instead of you? Mother told me
you had the key?" questioned Willis.

"I did once, but when I refused to let him enter, he came with a hacksaw
and removed the lock, placing this great brass one in its stead. Your
uncle was the only person with your father when he died, except the
nurse, and he has always claimed that Bill turned all his mining property
over to him. He offered to buy me out, but I refused to sell.

"Nearly a year after your father's death, I learned from a nurse in the
hospital that in his last moments your father called for me, but Williams
told him that I was badly hurt. He told your uncle that the real gold
vein had been uncovered by the fatal blast, and that I was to be sure to
work it for your sake and your mother's. Williams promised to tell me.
I tried to get the nurse to go into court and swear to her statement, but
she refused, and I found out afterward that Williams had bought her off.
I went and looked at the tunnel; then he broke in, took samples, and, I
believe, found them good. He locked the door with this lock, and since
the day of the accident I have never seen inside. I have never wanted to.
I don't know, but I have always been determined that he should not
plunder your father's possessions. At the time of the accident he came
into possession of all your father's papers. He let the assessments run
out on the Cheyenne claim, and then jumped it for his own. Only last
month he sold that claim to Beverly H. Pembroke for a consideration of
eight thousand dollars.

"He hates me, because he knows that one more move on his part and I'll
place the matter in the hands of the law. I believe that he once hired an
outlaw to kill me, bu