he leased property. This was exactly what Jack
had intended to do. Apparently his purpose was unchanged. He wound
steadily up the hill trail, keeping the animals at a steady pull, except
for breathing spells. The miner had been a mule skinner in his time,
just as he had tried his hand at a dozen other occupations. In the still
night the crack of his whip sounded clear as a shot when it hissed above
the flanks of the leaders without touching them.

He ran into the expected ambush a half mile from the mine, at a point
where the road dipped down a wooded slope to a sandy wash.

"Hands up!" ordered a sharp voice.

A horseman loomed up in the darkness beside the wagon. A second appeared
from the brush. Other figures emerged dimly from the void.

Jack gave his mules the whip and the heavy wagon plowed into the deep
sand. Before the wheels had made two revolutions the leaders were
stopped. Other men swarmed up the side of the wagon, dragged the driver
from his seat, and flung him to the ground.

Even though his face was buried in the sand and two men were spread over
his body, the captive was enjoying himself.

"This is no way to treat a man's anatomy--most unladylike conduct I ever
saw," he protested.

He was sharply advised to shut up.

After the pressure on his neck was a little relieved, Jack twisted round
enough to see that his captors were all masked.

"What is this game, boys--a hold-up?" he asked.

"Yes. A hold-up of a hold-up," answered one.

Three of the men busied themselves moving the ore sacks from his wagon
to another that had been driven out of the brush. A fourth, whom he
judged to be Bleyer, was directing operations, while the fifth menaced
him with a revolver shoved against the small of his back.

The situation would have been a serious one--if it had not happened to
be amusing instead. Kilmeny wanted to laugh at the bustling energy of
the men, but restrained himself out of respect for what was expected of
him.

"I'll have the law on you fellows," he threatened, living up to the
situation. "You'd look fine behind the bars, Bleyer."

"All those sacks transferred yet, Tim?" barked the superintendent.

"Yep."

"Good. Hit the trail."

The wagon passed out of the draw toward Goldbanks. For some minutes the
sound of the wheels grinding against the disintegrated granite of the
roadbed came back to Jack and the two guards who remained with him.

"Hope this will be a lesson to you," said the supe