e amount of Dickson's find to themselves; for, since the
night adventure of Thure and Bud, he knew that Quinley and Ugger must be
lurking somewhere in the vicinity, and that, if these two scoundrels
should get knowledge of Dickson's great luck, neither their gold nor
their lives would be safe.

Mrs. Dickson sang a number of the old songs, including Ham's favorite,
"Sweet Alice, Ben Bolt"; but her music lacked something of its usual
soul-fervor. Evidently the words of Ham had so aroused her fears that
she could not keep her mind from wandering to the little pile of gold
they had left almost unguarded in their lockless log cabin; and, in a
short time, both excused themselves on the plea of weariness, and
hurried home.

"Tew bad tew scare th' Leetle Woman," Ham said regretfully; "but 'twould
be a heap worse tew have Quinley an' Ugger git that thar gold. I got
scart of them jest as soon as th' Leetle Woman showed up th' big nugget;
for they must be a-lurkin' 'round here somewhere, keepin' an eye on us;
an', if they heer'd of Dickson's gold, they shore would try an' git it.
Wal, we'd better follow their example an' git tew bed; for we've got a
hard day's work afore us, if we finish th' wing dam an' turn th' water
tew-morrer. I'm goin'," and Ham, knocking the ashes out of his pipe on
the log on which he was sitting, arose and went into the house, whither
he was soon followed by the others.

* * * * *

The next day as Thure and Bud were sitting in the shade of the cool side
of the gulch, a little apart from the others, eating their lunch and
discussing the great find they expected to make when they turned the
water of the little stream into the new channel, Thure, whose eyes
happened to be looking down the gulch at that moment, suddenly
exclaimed:

"Hello, look who's coming!" and he pointed down the gulch to where a man
could be seen walking slowly toward them, a pick and shovel and gold-pan
slung across his broad shoulders, a Mexican sombrero on his head and the
rest of his body clothed in a blue flannel shirt and linen trousers that
had once been white, protected by deerskin leggings and thrust into the
tops of knee-boots.

"Out prospecting, I reckon," and Bud glanced curiously at the advancing
stranger, for visitors had been rare in that lonely gulch. "Let's ask
him to dine with us," and he smiled as he glanced at the coarse but
abundant fare spread out on the ground between them. "He m