  The gaunt man who had crawled from the mine pit did not see them crouching in the dense thicket. He stood facing them, however, a revolver dangling carelessly at his belt. He was a grotesque, powerfully built fellow amazingly agile, and he was wearing a ragged, red-wool shirt and an open, tattered leather jacket. As Jack and the rancher watched, Joe Hansart wheeled and trotted off over the rocks in the general direction of the pass. “We missed our chance to nab him,” Jack said, emerging. “Yes, but he has my gun, and it’s probably loaded,” Warner replied. “If he sees us he may shoot. The poor old fellow seems completely off his rocker.” “You know him?” “Not very well, but he’s Joe Hansart.” “Is he the prospector you mentioned at your ranch?” “Yes. Years ago I saw him a few times.” “Didn’t you tell us at the ranch that he had set out for this hollow and vanished?” “Yes,” the rancher answered. “So far as I know, Joe hasn’t been seen in Elks Creek for years.” “But how has he managed to live?” Warner shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe he makes trips out, though not to Elks Creek. Probably he stashes food for the winter. In the summer, a man of his ingenuity could get along on very little.” “But why would he stay here year after year?” “Evidently he’s been seized with gold fever, Jack, and it has twisted his brain.” “You think he’s found Old Stony’s caches?” “I suspect so, Jack. Perhaps he has even stumbled onto a rich vein in that pit mine. Let’s find out.” Making certain the old prospector had not doubled back on his trail, the two dropped down into the hole. The mine was a shallow one, bolstered with crudely cut timber. Water dripped from above, making the floor slippery and slimy. Warner’s flashlight came to rest on a box of dynamite. “Watch it!” he advised sharply, as Jack would have investigated. “That stuff’s old—and dangerous.” A little farther on they came to a pile of mined ore. Warner picked up one of the chunks of rock, studying the dull-looking metal under the flashlight. “This looks like rich stuff!” he exclaimed. “It’s hand sorted!” “Then Stony was right!” Jack cried. “He did find a fortune, only to lose it.” “Hard to tell until the stuff is assayed, but this ore looks rich to me. Almost pure gold, Jack.” “And there’s a lot of it! Piles and piles! Old Joe Hansart must have been mining it here for years.” Warner went on to a second and third pile of ore, but his enthusiasm began to die. “What’s wrong?” Jack demanded, puzzled by the rancher’s change of attitude. “Isn’t it gold, after all?” “It’s gold, all right.” “But not quality stuff?” “Well, it’s hard to tell much just by looking at it, Jack. That first pile of hand-sorted stuff was rich—no question about it. But this—” Warner dropped a chunk of ore contemptuously. “It’s worthless?” “I wouldn’t say that. I’m no expert. It’s easy to see, though, that’s it’s not the same rich ore as that first pile.” “Even so, there’s a lot of it,” Jack said optimistically. “Oh, that one pile might be worth thousands,” Craig Warner replied. “And it’s available to anybody who hauls it out.” “Why do you suppose Joe Hansart hasn’t done it?” Jack speculated. “Two reasons probably: one, he hasn’t wanted anyone to know of his discovery; two, ore is heavy.” “You figure Hansart never filed a claim?” “I doubt it, Jack. If he had, word would have swept this section of country like a prairie fire. He’s probably panned enough pure gold from the lake to keep him in supplies. Meanwhile, he has stayed on here alone, enlarging the mine.” A short distance further into the pit, they came to a tunnel opening which had been half covered with debris. Pulling the brush aside, Warner ran the beam of his light over the rough wall. “This seems to be where Hansart has done his most recent work,” he observed. “You can see the vein. But it’s thin—played out.” “Then this is only another worthless mine?” “I couldn’t pass judgment on such a brief inspection,” Warner returned. “Besides, as I say, I’m not an expert.” “But it doesn’t look too promising to you?” “Frankly, it doesn’t, Jack. I don’t want to build up your hopes, only to have them collapse.” “Oh, I hadn’t figured on cashing in on this trip except in fun and experience,” Jack rejoined cheerfully. “There’s gold here,” Warner said soberly. “These days, though, it takes capital—lots of it—to operate any mine profitably. Headless Hollow is hard to get at. So to make it worth while, the vein would have to be exceedingly rich.” They went on to the end of the narrow tunnel. “In my opinion the vein was better near the surface,” Craig Warner said, as he and Jack turned back. “It’s one of those freak things. Old Stony thought he had made a rich find. He must have found ore that would be worth maybe twenty to fifty thousand dollars in the present market. But the streak seemingly plays out.” “Mightn’t it pick up again somewhere in the valley?” Jack suggested hopefully. “Yes. But if in all these years Joe Hansart hasn’t improved on this site, I doubt there’s any bonanza here.” “The lure of gold, though, has held him here.” “True,” Warner agreed. “And there’s the tragedy of it. Poor Joe! I don’t know what’s to be done about him. He’s dangerous in his present state of mind, and it won’t be easy to help him.” “He already regards me as Enemy No. 1,” Jack said with a rueful chuckle. “My head still aches from that crack he gave me on the head.” “Joe’s probably afraid we’re here to steal his gold.” “I suppose so. He must have been the one who stole our food at the ghost town. And he must be the one who put up that animal skeleton at the entrance to the pass.” “Except for Joe, this valley must have been uninhabited for years,” Warner said thoughtfully. “Prospectors who drifted this way always got into trouble—minor accidents, food disappearing.” “Hansart must have been behind it all!” “He certainly wasn’t suspected, Jack. But what we’ve seen today convinces me—” “No search ever was made for him?” “None that I recall, Jack. You see, Joe was a queer one, even as a young man. The lone-wolf type. He had no relatives anyone ever heard about. When he’d vanish for a year or so at a time, no one thought anything of it. Then finally the story grew that he’d disappeared on a prospecting trip into this valley.” “He must have lived in that wreck of a cabin we took over—the one built by your father and Old Stony.” “Yes,” Warner agreed. “I’d guess that gold ore we found at the mine entrance—the good stuff—came from the original cache and poor old Joe stored it in here.” “Probably he keeps pretty close watch of this mine,” Jack remarked, a note of uneasiness in his voice. “How long have we been down here, anyhow?” “Too long.” “Let’s get out,” Jack urged, starting over the rough, uneven tunnel floor. Warner’s flashlight guided them to the main opening into the mine. “It must still be pretty dark outside,” Jack remarked, mystified because no daylight filtered down. “A fellow can’t see an inch ahead of his face.” He groped on up the rough steps in the rock. But where the exit to the mine should have been, his hand encountered first a mass of brush, and then solid rock. “Something’s wrong!” he muttered. “This can’t be the way we came.” “Sure, it is,” Warner insisted, pressing close behind him. “This mine is a simple affair. No offshoots. Here, let me have a look.” His light beam swept the mine exit. Both the rancher and Jack drew in their breath sharply. The opening through which they had entered a few minutes before was now blocked. They were trapped in the mine! |
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