“That’s what I will. Tom Eglinton tried to buy your father out, but he wouldn’t sell. Then he hired a man to pick a quarrel with him and shoot him, which was done. Oh, you needn’t glare at me, Dick Darrell. It’s true. I’ve got the papers about me to prove it. I have papers which prove the mine his. I’ve got Colonel Tom’s letters to me offering me money to kill you. There! What do you think of that?” “Want to know?” demanded Dick. “Yes, I do.” “Well, then, I think you are the man who killed my father and----” “Oh, Dick! Dick!” It was Clara! Calling out Dick’s name she rushed into the cave, and, without the slightest ceremony, threw her arms about his neck, calling out: “Oh, Dick, I am so glad you are alive!” “Cool, upon my word!” cried Mudd. “By thunder, here comes the other one, too! What manners these city folks have!” In rushed Charley, but he halted at the sight of Mudd and the men at the back of the cave. “Stand there!” cried Mudd, throwing up his revolver. “You are all my prisoners, every one of you! Stand there where you are, or----” A sharp whistle sounded further up the trail. Was Clara’s father coming? Dick thought so as he gently disengaged the girl’s arms from about his neck. It was rather an awkward time to be introduced to Colonel Tom Eglinton, the millionaire mine owner of the Black Hills. CHAPTER XXIV. CONCLUSION. “Wake up there, you drunken brutes! Wake up there, and help me guard these boys and this girl!” Martin Mudd was in a furious rage. His crack guards were all sound asleep again. They had brought what was left of the whisky along with them, and it had done its work. The consequence was that Mudd, who did not dare to move to shake them up, was rather at his wit’s ends to know what to do. There he stood with a cocked revolver in each hand. One covered Charley and the other covered Dick. Clara was screaming out for him not to shoot, and Mudd himself was roaring lustily to his drunken companions, who never even stirred. Now, if anyone thinks that Dick Darrell and Charley Nicholson were the sort to let such a situation as this last long, they are very greatly mistaken. In far less time than it has taken to describe said situation the boys brought it to an end. Both made a rush for Mudd, utterly ignoring the revolvers. Mudd fired. The next instant Dick had him by the throat and had wrenched one revolver away, Mudd losing his hold on the other in the struggle which followed, and it fell to the ground. “Give me those papers! Throw them down, or I’ll fire!” shouted Dick, covering the scoundrel. “I believe on my soul you are the man who killed my father, and----” “Hold on! Hold on! I’ll do it!” yelled Mudd, in terror. He thrust his hand into the pocket of his coat, and, drawing out a flat package done up in greasy brown paper, threw it to the ground. “Oh, Dick, look at Charley! He’s shot!” screamed Clara at the same instant. Dick foolishly turned his head in answer to this startling cry.