The next three days passed quietly enough. The inhabitants of Weimer's cabin heard an occasional blast from Wilson's claims, but did not see Wilson. Steadily the two boys worked and steadily Ross held Weimer to his labors. Usually it was Weimer who got the meals, either Ross or Leslie leading him down to the shack, in case the sun shone, about half-past eleven. In three-quarters of an hour the boys would leave work and sit down to a substantial meal of hot bread, potatoes and all sorts of canned meats and vegetables. But the third day after the McKenzies' departure it chanced that when eleven o'clock came, Weimer and Leslie were in the far end of the tunnel drilling the "cut in" holes for a new blast, and Ross, pushing the little car back into the tunnel, sang out: "Hey, you fellows, keep on and I'll go down and shake up the grub this time." He ran down the trail to the cabin, and soon had a roaring fire in the heater. A kettle of beans had been left simmering on the back of the stove. This Ross pulled forward, and then, delving among the canned goods, he proceeded to set out various edibles, all the while whistling cheerfully. "M-m, tomatoes," he interrupted himself to mutter, "we haven't had tomatoes in two days. And corn--sweet corn. Guess Weimer has overlooked the corn entirely. We'll have corn. Soup! Jiminy! We haven't had soup in an age. Vegetable. That means a little of everything, and that taken boiling hot. Here goes soup." "Whoa!" came a deep voice from the trail outside the door, then the voice was raised, "Hello! Who's t' home?" Ross stepped to the door and faced a middle aged man, clad in leather "chaps" and short fur coat. A fur cap was drawn down over his ears and his hands were encased in huge fur gloves. He sat easily on a gray horse and was leading another, a mottled brown and white. As Ross appeared, he drew off one glove and slipped the hand carelessly under the tail of his coat at the same time squaring about in his saddle so that he faced the doorway. Ross, in his shirt sleeves, stepped out and greeted the newcomer hospitably. "Hello! Come in to dinner." "Had mine down in Miners' Camp," returned the other with a backward jerk of his head. He touched his mount with his spur and came close to Ross. The brown and white horse pulled back obstinately on the leading rope. The animal was saddled. "Are you the young chap that's workin' for Weimer?" "Yes." "All right." The stranger withdrew his hand from the tail of his coat. It held a gun. "No monkey-shines now! You're the boy I'm after. I'm the sheriff of Big Horn County, and I have a warrant here for your arrest. Your father is honin' to meet up with you and settle a little account of money taken in Omaha." CHAPTER IX SURPRISES