Still, we all were smelling it, now, and we kept our eyes
and ears open for other sign of a camp.

The water made a big noise as it dashed down; the gulch turned and
twisted, and was timbered and rocky; it grew narrower; and as we
advanced with Scout caution, looking ahead each time as far as we could,
on rounding an angle suddenly we came out into a sunny little park,
with flowers and grass and aspens and bowlders, the stream dancing
through at one edge, and an old dug-out beside the stream.

It was an abandoned prospect claim, because on the hill-slope were some
old prospect holes and a dump. By the looks, nobody had been working
these holes for a year or two; but from the chimney of the dug-out a
thin smoke was floating. We instantly sat down, motionless, to
reconnoiter.

CHAPTER XI

THE MAN AT THE DUG-OUT

We couldn't see any sign, except those hoof-marks, and that fire. Nobody
was stirring, the sun shone and the chipmunks scampered and the aspens
quivered and the stream tinkled, and the place seemed all uninhabited by
anything except nature. We grew tired of waiting.

"I'll go on to that dug-out," whispered Scout Ward. "If the man sees me
he won't know me, especially. I can find out if he's there, or who is
there."

That sounded good; so he dumped his pack and while Scout Van Sant and I
stayed back he walked out, up the trail. We saw him turn in at the
dug-out and rap on the door. Nobody came. He hung about and eyed the
trail and the ground, and rapped again.

"There's plenty of sign," he called to us; "and there's a loose horse
over across the creek."

"Well, what of it?" growled a voice; and he looked, and we looked, and
we saw a man sitting beside a bowlder on the little slope behind the
dug-out.

The man must have been watching, half hid, without moving. It was the
beaver man. He had an automatic pistol in his hand. This was my
business, now. So, just saying, "There he is!" I stood up and went right
forward. But Scout Van Sant followed.

"I want that message," I said, as soon as I could.

"What message?" he growled back, from over his gun.

"That Scouts' message you took from the fellow who took it from us."

"Oh, hello!" he grinned. "Were you there? They let you go, did they?"

"No; I got away to follow you. I want that message."

"Why, sure," he said. "If that's all you want." And he seemed relieved.
"Come and get it." He stuck his free hand behind him and fumbled, and
then he he