It was around ten o'clock, and the sun had just set over the mountains to the westward, leaving the Hollow in an uncertain, pale-blue light, which would last until sunrise at four, when a messenger on mule-back dashed along the trail from Gold Bottom. "Thar's a lynchin' goin' on down to Smedley's!" he yelled, as he sped by. "They've caught a sneak thief by the name o' Guardley, an' they're goin' ter make him do er dance on nuthin'. Better be gittin' down thar, if ye want ter see justice done!" CHAPTER XXV. MORE WORK IN THE GULCHES. "They are going to lynch a fellow named Guardley!" ejaculated Earl. "I wonder if it can be Jasper Guardley." "It must be; it's not likely there is another Guardley up here--the name isn't as common as all that," returned Randy. "Shall we go?" Earl hesitated. There was something appalling in a lynching, to his mind. Yet he was curious to know more of the crime for which the prisoner was about to suffer. "Yes, we might as well--if Fred will watch the camp," he answered. "I'll watch it as well as I can," answered Fred. The work he had been doing had tired him more than he would admit, and he was glad enough to take it easy. He knew Guardley, but took small interest in the man his father had sent up more than once for petty crimes. In less than five minutes Earl and Randy were off, stalking over the hills and along Gold Bottom Creek as rapidly as their tired limbs would carry them. Smedley's, a settlement of two-score of tents and one board cabin where a few odds and ends could be bought, was nearly two miles distance, yet they arrived there in less than half an hour--fast time when the state of the trails they had travelled was taken into consideration. They found that the prisoner had been bound, hands and feet, and placed in the storeroom of the board cabin, a little shed in the rear, scarcely eight feet by twelve and hardly high enough for a man to stand in. Two rough-looking miners were on guard, one with a gun, and the other with an old-fashioned horse-pistol over a foot long. "What do you want?" demanded one of the miners of Earl, as the latter pushed his way forward through the fast-gathering crowd. "This ain't no place fer a young rooster like you." "I would like to see the prisoner, please," answered Earl. "I think I know him." "You ain't the feller's pard, are ye?" demanded the second guard, suspiciously. "No. I am from Maine, and I knew a Guardley up there who came to these diggings. I wanted to find out if it was the same man." "Say, is that Earl Portney?" came from within, and both Earl and Randy recognized Jasper Guardley's voice. "If it is, I'd like to talk to him." "Yes, Guardley," answered Earl. "What's the trouble?" [Illustration: "I WOULD LIKE TO SEE THE PRISONER, PLEASE."--_Page 196._] "Can't you come in and talk to me?" "I'll come in if the guards will allow it," and Earl looked at the men.