“An’ so he is, stranger. But we ain’t goin’ to be bluffed out of our claim for a stack of greasers as high as Shasta.” “That’s good pluck.” “In course, but now ye’ve axed questions, stranger, s’posin’ we take our turn. I’m Sam Sharp, or better known as Silver Sam. Who in thunder are you?” Frank was not a little amused at being addressed in this bluff manner, but he quietly responded: “I am Frank Reade, Jr., and I am from the East.” The sport turned around and indicated three of the others. “That’s Bill Guernsey, our driver,” he said, referring to the Jehu; “this gent hyar,” indicating a bloated gambler-looking man with a prodigious diamond on his shirt front, “is Mister Jake Bolton; we call him Diamond Jake fer short. This gent,” indicating a tall, slender youth with a sleepy air, “is Mister Chris Blume, an’ he’s our civil an’ minin’ engineer. We’re goin’ to drive a shaft up there a mile or more an’ he’s goin’ to do the biz for us.” “Gentlemen, I’m all very glad to meet you,” said Frank, politely. “The same, stranger,” said Diamond Jake, advancing and shaking Frank’s hand. The others all advanced and did the same. Silver Sam, as the sport was called, did not trouble to introduce the laborers, as the red-shirted men might have been called. They were a conglomeration of Mexicans, half breeds and toughs. “Well, friend,” said Silver Sam, after the introduction was over, “what’s yer biz in these parts, might I ax?” “Certainly,” replied Frank, “and perhaps you can give me some information to aid me?” “Mebbe we can, stranger. We’ll be glad to do it if we can.” “Did you ever hear of a man about here called Harvey Montaine?” Sharp exclamations went up and glances were exchanged. “You can bet we have, stranger, and he’s a white man, too.” “Harvey is a gentleman,” said Frank. “You bet he is. He was well liked in Saint’s Repose.” “Where is he now?” Silver Sam cleared his throat and came nearer. “Look here, stranger,” he said, earnestly, “are you lookin’ for Harvey?” “I am.” “Wall, I’m afraid ye’ll never be able to rescue him. He’s in the grip of that devil Costello.” “Ah!” said Frank, grimly. “That is what I heard.” “It’s true enough. You see, Costello pounced down on him when he was opening up his claim and massacred all his men. They may have killed Harvey, too, but Costello keeps advertisin’ for a ransom.” “The scoundrel!” exclaimed Frank. “I’m thinking he ain’ after that,” said Silver Sam, with conviction, “no more nor you an’ I are. It’s my ’pinyun he’s got sick of being road agent and thinks there’s a princely fortune in that mine.” “Well, is there not?” “There ain’t any doubt of it.” “Well,” said Frank, slowly and with great determination, “I don’t mind telling you, friends, that I am in this region to spoil his game and to rescue Harvey Montaine. I mean to do it--or die!” “We glory in your pluck, stranger,” cried Silver Sam, warmly. “We hope ye’ll succeed an’ we’ll help ye all we can.” “I thank you.”