ley's, a settlement of twoscore 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?"
