From his lookout above Denver watched them with a smile, for his nerve had come back to him now. Now that Murray had made his strike, and increased the value of the Silver Treasure by a thousand per cent over night, Denver's mind had swung back like a needle to the pole to his former belief in the prophecy. He had doubted it twice and renounced it twice, but each time as if by an act of Providence he was rebuked for his lack of faith. Now he _knew_ it was so--that the mine would be restored and that only his dearest friend could kill him. So he smiled almost pityingly at the loud-mouthed jumpers and went boldly down the trail. The hush of evening was in the air when he knocked at Bunker Hill's door and after a look about Old Bunk went back into the house and brought out a heavy pistol. It was an old-fashioned six-shooter of the Indian-tamer type--a single action, wooden-handled forty-five--and Bunker fingered it lovingly as he handed it over to Denver. "For self-defense, understand," he said beneath his breath, "and look out, that bunch is sure ranicky." "Much obliged," responded Denver and tested the action before he slipped the gun in its belt. He was starting for his cave, when from his cabin up the street the Professor came out and beckoned him. "What do you want?" called Denver; then, receiving no answer, he strode impatiently up the street. "Come in," urged the Professor touching his nose for secrecy, "come in, I vant to show you some-t'ing." "Well, show it to me here," answered Denver but the Professor drew him inside the house. "You look oudt vat you do," he warned mysteriously, "dem joompers are liable to see you." "I should worry," said Denver and, whipping out the gun, he made the motions of fanning the hammer. "Now, now," reproved Diffenderfer drawing back in a panic; and then he laughed, but nervously. "Well, what do you want to show me?" demanded Denver bluntly. "Hurry up now--I hear somebody coming." "Oh, nutting--come again!" exclaimed the Professor apprehensively. "Come to-morrow--I show you everyt'ing!" "You'll show me now," returned Denver imperturbably, "I'm not afraid of the whole danged bunch. Come on, what have you got--a bottle?" "Yoost a piece of copper from Murray's tunnel--Mein Gott, I hear dem boys coming!" He sprang to the door and dropped the heavy bar but Denver struck it up and stepped out. "What the hell are you trying to do?" he demanded suspiciously and the door slammed to behind him. "Run! Run!" implored the Professor staring out through his peep-hole but Denver lolled negligently against the house. A crowd of men, headed by Slogger Meacham, were coming down the street; but it was not for him to fly. He had a gun now, as well as they, and his back was against the wall. They could pass by or stop, according to their liking; but the show-down had come, there and now.