"Funny time to examine it when eating your breakfast," spoke up Walter.

"I prefer to eat," said Stacy.

"We know that," chuckled Ned. "No need for you to tell us."

The Professor was eyeing Tad inquiringly, observing that the boy's face was slightly flushed.

"What is it, Tad?" he asked.

"Nothing, except that I am going to take a pot shot at an intruder,"

replied the boy calmly, suddenly leveling his rifle on the bushes where he had observed the movement a few moments before.

He pulled the trigger. A deafening crash brought the boys to their feet, yelling. The shot was followed by a shout from the bushes.

"Stop that shooting, you fool!" roared a voice. Tad put down his gun, grinning broadly, the others dancing about excitedly.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Curtis Darwood Stepped Out.]

"Come out of that or I'll give you something to yell at," commanded the Pony Rider Boy.

Curtis Darwood, his face stern and determined, stepped out into the open and walked straight towards the amazed group now standing near the campfire. The Indian guide was the only person who had not gotten up when Tad Butler sent a bullet into the thicket fully six feet above the head of the gold digger who was spying on the camp.

Darwood was more angry at having been discovered than being shot at. He had heard the bullet rip through the foliage above his head, and knew that the shot had been intended to stir him up rather than to reach him.

That the boy whom he had driven from his own camp should have thus turned the tables on him angered him almost beyond his control. Darwood was so angry that he failed to see any humor in the situation.

"It is Mr. Darwood, isn't it?" cried the Professor with face aglow, striding forward with outstretched hand. As in Butler's case, Darwood professed not to see the proffered hand. He looked the Professor squarely in the face.

"Won't you sit down and have a snack with us?" asked Professor Zepplin.

"We were eating when Tad fired that shot. That was very careless of you, young man. You might have killed someone."

"I reckon he knew whom he was shooting at," answered the gold digger.

"You see, this isn't the first time that young fellow and myself have met."

"Of course not. We all met on the 'Corsair,'" spoke up Rector.

"He and I have met since then," answered Darwood. "I reckon you know all about it. He came spying on our camp this morning just after daylight, and--"

"You know that isn't true," interjected Tad. "Why don't you tell it straight if you are bound to tell it?"

The miner let one hand fall to his holster.

"Up in this country they don't call men liars," answered Darwood, looking Butler coldly in the eyes.

"Then men shouldn't place themselves in a position to be called liars,"

retorted Tad boldly. "You had better take your hand from your revolver.

If you will take the time to glance at the rock to your right you may possibly see something to interest you."

The miner cast a quick glance of inquiry in the direction indicated, and found himself looking into the muzzle of a rifle, laid over the top of the rock. Behind the rifle was Chunky, one eye peering over the sights.

Tad laughed.

"Stacy!" thundered the Professor. "What does this mean?"

"Nothing, Professor," answered Tad. "Chunky got a little excited, that is all. You may put the gun down, Stacy. Mr. Darwood doesn't understand; that's all. Sit down and have a snack with us, as the Professor has asked you to do," urged Butler.

"I don't want to eat with you. You know it. Don't you go to getting me riled or I won't answer for the consequences."

"Neither will I," answered Tad smilingly. "We are easy to get along with unless someone treads on our toes; then it's a different story. Sit down and we will talk this matter over."

Tad threw himself down beside the fire. Stacy still sat behind the rock, gazing suspiciously at their early morning visitor.

"I demand to know the meaning of this scene," said the Professor sternly.

"Let Mr. Darwood tell you," replied Butler.

The gold digger made no answer. Tad turned to the Professor.

"I will tell you what there is to it, sir. Mr. Darwood thinks we are like some others he has met. He thinks we are trying to steal his gold mine," declared Tad in an impressive voice.

Professor Zepplin flushed deeply.

CHAPTER XIX

THE PROFESSOR IN A RAGE

"What!" fairly exploded Professor Zepplin.

"Mr. Darwood accuses us of having followed him to find out where this wonderful gold deposit is located. He thinks we want to steal it away from him."

"Preposterous!"

"Show me some gold," urged Stacy, edging near. "I am looking for gold. I don't make any bones about saying so, either."

"Be silent," commanded the Professor.

"I smelled smoke when I was out this morning," continued Butler. "I followed the scent until I stumbled into Mr. Darwood's camp. It was his signal smokes that we saw yesterday. Mr. Darwood did not give me a very cordial welcome; he ordered me out of his camp. Not only that, but he threatened me in case we persisted in following him. I think he would have used his pistol on me if I had not gone away when I did."

"Is this true, Darwood?" questioned the Professor, who was restraining himself with an effort.

"I reckon it's right, so far as it goes. I know what you fellows are up to. You may think you can fool me, but I've been in these parts too long to be an easy mark. It's n.o.body's business whether we are in search of gold or whether we are up here for our health. Whatever our business is, we don't propose to have a lot of folks sticking their noses into it."

"What do you propose that we shall do?" asked Professor Zepplin.

"I don't care what you do," roared the gold digger.