find out who it is if I can."

After floundering about for fully half an hour, with the odor of smoke
becoming more pungent all the time, the boy was on the point of
confessing that he was beaten, when all at once he caught the sound of a
human voice. The voice was not loud enough to enable him to distinguish
the words, but he was quite sure it was the voice of a white man and not
far away at that.

"They have masked their camp. That's why I haven't been able to find
them," muttered the boy, starting ahead again. After creeping forward
cautiously for some time, a wave of suffocating smoke from burning wood
smote him full in the face.

Tad uttered a loud sneeze. Two men suddenly appeared in the haze of
smoke, and the boy heard the sound of hands slapping pistol holsters. He
was able to make the men out faintly, but not with sufficient clearness
to see who or what they were.

"Hold on, boys--don't shoot!" warned Butler, as he stepped around the
smudge to enable him to get a better view of the men whom he had come
upon so unexpectedly, to them.

Before him stood Curtis Darwood and Dill Bruce, the latter known among
his companions as the Pickle. Each man held his revolver ready for quick
action.

"Why, how do you do?" smiled Tad. "I hadn't the least idea I should find
anyone I knew."

"Well, suffering blue jays, if it isn't old Spotted Face!" exclaimed
Bruce. "Howdy?"

"Very good. How are you?" Tad stepped forward. Bruce shook hands
cordially with the boy. Tad turned to Darwood, who had not said a word.
The latter's face darkened, and he appeared not to have observed the
hand that Tad extended toward him.

"Aren't you going to shake hands with me, Mr. Darwood?" asked the lad.

"I reckon you ought to know better than to ask it," returned the gold
digger. "I reckon, further, that if you know what's good for you you'll
be mushing out of this as fast as your legs will carry you, unless you
are looking for trouble. Git!"

CHAPTER XVIII

AN UNFRIENDLY RECEPTION

Tad gazed at the gold digger in amazement.

"I--I don't understand, Mr. Darwood."

"Don't you understand plain English? I said 'git.' We don't want
anything to do with you, and if we find you fooling about our outfit
after this we'll try something else to keep you away," warned the
prospector.

"I don't know why you appear to have taken such a dislike to me. I am
sure I have done nothing to merit it. However, I am equally sure that I
don't w