Part 17 (1/2)

”I'll go and find out what he's reading,” Jimmie volunteered.

The boy entered the tent, but was back in a moment with a broad grin on his face.

”It is a French dictionary!” he gasped. ”Ned is learning French, so he can talk with the prince in his native tongue!”

”The prince isn't French!” Jack declared. ”He belongs away in the East somewhere. French is the polite language of Europe, so of course, he's been taught it!”

After a time Ned came to the door of the tent and beckoned to Jimmie.

”Suppose we go and get some pictures of the mountains,” he said, when the boy entered. ”We haven't taken a snap-shot since we came here.

”I'm strong for it!” Jimmie declared. ”We might go and take a few snaps at the counterfeiter's den. That will be fine!”

”What's that?” demanded Frank Shaw, poking his nose into the tent.

”Going to take pictures of the counterfeiters den! I'm in on that.

We'll take a bunch of pictures--enough for a first-page layout--and send 'em in to dad's newspaper. Hot stuff! What? And I'll write the biography of Uncle Ike, and send it in with the rest. His picture ought to go in the center of the layout. He'll be a hero, all right.”

”All right!” Ned agreed. ”We'll go and take the pictures, and we'll send them in when you get the story written! Will that answer?”

”Sure it will!”

So Ned, Jimmie, and Frank started away laughing, for all knew Frank would never write the story, toward the counterfeiters' cave. When they came in sight of the ridge which jutted out of the slope to make the canyon, and under which the workroom was situated, they saw a man moving northward, keeping close to the jagged summit of the lesser elevation, and looking sharply about as he advanced.

”That may be one of them,” Jimmie suggested.

”I don't believe it!” Frank contradicted. ”What do you think, Ned?”

he added.

”Never saw the outlaws,” Ned answered, ”so I can't decide the question. Still, I doubt if one of the counterfeiters is within fifty miles of this spot now.”

”That's the idea!” Frank said. ”Of course the shooting of last night would draw out the natives. There'll be dozens around the caves to-day.”

The boys walked on to the canyon, taking snap-shots of everything they saw. The slope, the canyon, the valley to the west, the green valley to the south, the shallow cave from which the entrance to the workroom gave, all were transferred to films to await development.

When at last they entered the shallow cave they paused.

”There may be some of them in here yet,” Frank suggested.

”Not to-day!” Ned replied. ”There are too many strangers about!”

They entered cautiously. There was now no fire on the stone hearth, and the atmosphere of the place was damp and chill, as well as dark.

Here and there a break in the rocky roof above--the ceiling of the apartment was very near to the surface of the outcropping ridge--let in a shaft of light, but for the most part the apartment was in heavy shadows.

Ned took out his electric light and turned it enquiringly about the room. Counterfeit money still lay scattered over the floor. The melting pot and the dies were on the cold iron shelf where they had been left, and even a coat hung against the wall.

”They got out in a hurry,” Jimmie declared.

”And they are not likely to come back in a hurry!” Ned added.

Frank paced the apartment off, set his camera tripod, and got out his powder.