"Because I want to see if anyt'ing happens. Youse kin go out to de holes in de ground. I'll see 'em later if dere worth lookin' at. But I t'ink I'll mosey around de hotel a while." "Well, maybe it will be a good plan," agreed Dick. "We can't tell what sort of a game Vanderhoof is up to. Now, come on down to breakfast, boys." After the meal Dick hired a large three-seated buckboard, and he and his chums were driven off toward the mines. The news had quickly gone around that they were young college students, who had come West to get practical illustrations bearing on their studies. Tim stood on the hotel steps looking after Dick and his chums. As the carriage disappeared around a turn in the road someone came up to the newsboy and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned quickly and saw, standing beside him, a well-dressed lad about his own age. The youth wore a showy watch chain and assumed a confident air that was not at all in keeping with his years. "How's my friend, Dick Hamilton?" he asked, nodding in the direction of the carriage. "Dick Hamilton," spoke Tim, in a sort of daze. "Yes, Dick Hamilton, of Hamilton Corners. I suppose he came out here to see about the mines he and his millionaire father invested in." "Mines," repeated Tim, somewhat surprised to thus learn that Dick's object was already discovered. "Yes, mines," went on the other youth. "Oh, I know all about it. Dick thought he was cute, pretending to come here with a bunch of college lads. But I'm on to him, and so are the others." "Who are you?" asked Tim, boldly. "Just tell Dick that Simon Scardale was asking for him," replied the flashily-dressed youth, as he moved away. "I'll not give him my address, because I don't believe he'd like to call on me, but just tell him Simon Scardale was asking for him," and, with a mocking bow, Simon jumped on a pony and galloped off down the street. CHAPTER XXIV A NIGHT TRIP Dick and his chums saw many interesting sights on their drive to the mines. All about them were evidences of the hustling West, and the noise of the stamping mills, or machines, which crush up the rocks and ore to enable the precious metals to be extracted from them could be heard on every side. They met many teams hauling ore from the mines to distant "stamps," and saw throngs of miners in their rough, but picturesque, garb, tramping along. "Do you think they'll let us visit the mines?" asked Dick of the driver. "We want to find out all we can about 'em." "Oh, I guess so. This is a free and easy country. Visitors are always welcome, providin' they don't want to know too much," and the driver winked his eye. "Too much?" repeated Dick. "Yes. Lots of men out here don't care to have their past history raked over. It ain't always healthy, son, to ask a man where he came from, or why he left there. There's secrets, you understand, that a man don't like strangers to know."