"Now's our chance to get hold o' the gold," muttered Nate Upshur, eagerly. "We'll have time." "No--I'm goin' to see this a'fa'r out fust. It's best that we know jest what an' who we've got to work ag'in', an' we'll never hev a better chaince to find out. Come--keep along behind the ridge. We kin git up opposite the spot where Jack was, afore t'others. Keerful--don't show your head 'bove the ridge." Though having the longest and by far the roughest road, Chicot and his companions gained the desired point ahead of Duplin and Wythe, owing to the latter having to follow Tyrrel's trail. But, though they closely scrutinized the opposite ridge, nothing in human form was to be seen. "The boy's gone, an' so's whoever he run ag'inst. Mebbe he's rubbed out, an' the fellers is layin' fer t'others." "We'll soon see, for there comes Duplin and Wythe," added Upshur. In silence the trio watched and waited. Every movement of the two comrades was noted. What they were the reader already knows. For a time the watchers were puzzled, but then as the two men began gathering dried sticks from under the sheltered rocks, the truth gradually became plain. Paul Chicot gave vent to a long, low whistle. "They've holed the game!" "Surely the fools ain't going to venture in?" "It _is_ foolish, but they show plenty o' grit. You see now what you wanted to buck ag'inst." "If they go in there, the game's in our hands!" exultantly muttered Upshur, his eyes glowing wickedly. "What d'y' mean by that?" "Can't we _block them in_? Then they'll have a good chance to fight it out with those they are hunting, while we can take our time about the gold. In that way we get rid ef them without killing them, and just as effectually too." "I don't see much difference, if ye l'ave them there to starve," slowly commented Tim Dooley, for the first time for hours giving his opinion, in this respect being very different from the popular idea of an Irishman. "If you're so cursed tender-hearted, why don't you go an offer to help _them_? Had I known what a milksop you were I'd never have lifted a finger to help you to a fortune." "Nor would ye, only ye wanted help. But best kape a bridle on yer tongue, my fri'nd. I don't take black words from anybody," quietly added Dooley. "Dry up--quit yer quarrelin'. Whar's the use? It don't do no good, an' only makes bad blood. We're workin' in harness now, an' each must keep up his eend. Fust work--then pleasure. Fight then as much as ye please. But I think that's a good idea o' your'n, Upshur. We kin block 'em in, s'posin' they give us a chaince, an' then, when we're ready to travel, we kin set 'em free. But mind ye, this we've got to do. I won't take a step in the matter onless this is all onderstood." "Nayther will I." "Just as you like about that," impatiently added Upshur. "But we're losing valuable time. That may be but a small den, and we be too late. Then if they see us, it _must_ come to blows."