“Anybody hurt?” asked Joe of a train hand.
“Yes, two men killed. They were riding between the cars.”
“Tramps?”
“They didn’t look like tramps. But they hadn’t any right to ride on the freight.”
“Where are they?”
“Over in the shanty yonder.”
With a queer sensation in his heart Joe walked to the little building, accompanied by Bill Badger. A curious crowd was around and they had to force their way to the front.
One look was enough. Gaff Caven and Pat Malone lay there, cold in death. They had paid the penalty of their crimes on earth and gone to the final judgment.
CHAPTER XXX.
CONCLUSION.
“LET US go away!” whispered Joe, and moved out of the gathering without delay.
“It was sure rough on ’em,” was Bill Badger’s comment.
“Oh, it was awful!” cried our hero. I–I didn’t expect this, did you?”
“Nobody did. It must have come sudden like on to ’em.”
“It makes me sick at heart to think of it. I–I hope it wasn’t our fault.”
“Not at all. If they hadn’t broke away they’d be alive this minute. They’ll never bother you or your friend again, Joe.”
Our hero felt weak at the knees and was glad enough to go back to the train, where he sank into his seat. He scarcely said another word until the wreck was cleared away and they were once more on their journey.
“I reckon you are glad you got the satchel before this happened,” remarked Bill Badger, when they were preparing to retire.
“Yes. But I–I wish they had gotten away. It’s awful to think they are dead–and with such bad doings to heir credit.”
Joe did not sleep very well and he was up early in the morning and out on the rear platform, drinking in the fresh air. He felt as if he had passed through some fearful nightmare.
“How do you like this climate?” asked Bill Badger, as he came out. “Ain’t it just glorious?”
“It certainly is,” said Joe, and he remembered what Ned had told him. “I don’t wonder some folks like it better than the East.”
“Oh, the East can’t compare to it,” answered Bill Badger. “Why I was once down to New York and Boston, and the crowd and confusion and smoke and smells made me sick for a week! Give me the pure mountain air every time!”
The day proved a pleasant one and when he did not remember the tragedy that had occurred our hero enjoyed the ride and the wild scenery.
At last Golden Pass was reached, late at night, and they got off in a crowd of people.
“Joe!”
“Mr. Vane!” was the answering cry, and soon the two were shaking hands. “Let me introduce a new friend, Mr. Bill Badger.”
“Glad to know you.”
“Mr. Badger helped me get back your satchel,” went on our hero.
“Then I am deeply indebted to him.”
“In that case, just drop the mister from my name,” drawled the young westerner. “Joe tells me you have a mine up here. My father has one, too–the Mary Jennie, next to the Royal Flush.”
“Oh, yes, I know the mine, and I have met your father,” said Maurice Vane.
They walked to a hotel, and there Joe and his young western friend told their stories, to which Maurice Vane listened with keen interest. The gentleman was shocked to learn of the sudden death of Caven and Malone.
“It was certainly a sad ending for them,” said he. “But, as Badger says, they had nobody but themselves to blame for it.”
Maurice Vane was extremely glad to get back his mining shares and thanked Bill Badger warmly for what he had done.
“Don’t you mention it,” said the young westerner. “I’m going to hunt up dad now. When you get time, call and see us.”
“I’m coming up soon, to find out about that Bill Bodley,” said Joe.
As late as it was Joe listened to what Maurice Vane had to tell.
“Now that Caven and Malone are gone I do not anticipate further trouble at the mine,” said the gentleman. “I am in practical possession of all the shares, and shall have a clear title to the whole property inside of a few weeks.”