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CHAPTER XXX
THE DISCOVERY – CONCLUSION

The others followed, one at a time, leaving one of the detectives in charge of Lem Sing.

“Now, Fenn, lead the way,” called Mr. Hayward.

“I guess they’ve all gone,” said Fenn. “There don’t seem to be any of the miners here, now.”

Hardly had he spoken when, turning a corner in the shaft, the party came upon a curious scene. In a big chamber, the same one which Fenn had viewed from the crack in the door of his small prison, there were half a score of men, working by the light of torches, digging stuff from the walls of the cave, and carrying it out in small boxes.

“Here they are!” shouted Fenn. “This is the place, and they’re at work!”

“To the shaft!” shouted some one. “They’re after us!”

There was a hurrying and scurrying to escape, and, before the detectives or Mr. Hayward could make any move to capture the men, they had all disappeared.

“Come on!” cried Mr. Harkness. “Show us the way to the shaft where the ladder is, Fenn! Maybe we can nab some of ’em.”

“It isn’t worth while,” declared Mr. Hayward. “These men were evidently afraid of being caught, but, from what I can see, they were not doing anything unlawful.”

“No,” admitted Mr. Harkness. “We caught the last of them when we got Lem Sing. But what were these men digging?”

“I’ll take a look,” answered Robert Hayward.

Suddenly he gave a cry, as he took some of the soft earth in his fingers.

“Say, this is almost as good as a silver mine!” exclaimed Mr. Hayward. “This stuff is in great demand! It’s used by chemists, and they can’t get enough of it.”

“Lucky for the man who owns this land,” commented Mr. Harkness. “But I don’t see that it concerns us. Guess I’d better be going.”

“Why, man, this is my land!” suddenly exclaimed Mr. Hayward. “I own a big tract in here, but I believed it was worthless, and I was about to sell it very cheap. Now – well, say, you couldn’t buy it! My fortune is made again!”

“Boys,” he went on, a little more soberly, “you don’t know it, but I’ve been in quite a hole lately. The house where I live was about to be sold for a mortgage. But my daughter never knew. She – ”

“Yes, she did,” interrupted Fenn. “She knew all about it, and she was trying to help you!”

“She did? You don’t mean it!”

Then Fenn explained; telling of Ruth’s strange remarks while in a delirium at his house, her unexpected discovery of the cave, the man’s threat, her long silence under fear of it, and her desire to aid her father to recover his wealth.

“Well, this gets me!” exclaimed Mr. Hayward. “Ruth is a girl that’s hard to beat.”

They went to the foot of the shaft, where Fenn had come down, but there were no men to be seen.

“Let them go,” suggested Mr. Hayward. “I’ve got all I want, and I must hurry and tell my daughter the news, bless her heart!”

“It was all Fenn’s good luck,” declared Ruth, when the story had been told. “You ought to reward him, daddy.”

“Reward him! Well, I guess I will. And the other boys, too. Nothing is too good for them.”

The Chinese smugglers were punished for their attempt to break the United States immigration laws, and the Celestials they tried to land were sent back to Canada.

Lem Sing had planned the trick so that by pulling on the rope the bushes dropped back out of sight, and the ladder came down. The miners used this device to send away the valuable clay, and it was by this queer hole that the men on the cliff so mysteriously appeared and disappeared when the boys were watching them from the deck of the Modoc.

The two Chinamen and the white man, whom Fenn had followed, were the advance party, looking to see if the coast was clear for a landing which had once been unintentionally frustrated by the boys, and, the visit of the one Chinese to the camp was only to discover if the lads were detectives, which Lem at first feared. While Fenn was following the men, one had slipped behind him and gone to the camp, to see if it was deserted. It was this fellow who had dropped the button which gave Frank, Ned and Bart their clue.

“But what I can’t understand,” said Fenn, “is why that man Dirkfell should chase us the night of the fire, and pursue us in the steam yacht. Do you know him, Mr. Hayward?”

“Dirkfell!” exclaimed the gentleman. “I should say I did, to my sorrow. It was through business dealings with him that I lost all my wealth. He held the mortgage on this house, and was about to buy that land, under which the cave is located. He has long borne a grudge against me – a grudge for which there is no excuse, for I never injured him. When he heard of my loss in the elevator fire I presume he could not help saying how glad he was. Then, probably, when he saw you looking at him so sharply, Fenn, he imagined you must be some agent of mine. He was evidently in fear of being found out in his secret mining operations under my land, and that was why he made such an effort to catch you, even following the Modoc. I understand now, why he was so anxious to get possession of this land that I considered worthless. But I beat him at his own game, thanks to you and your chums.”

“And your daughter did her part,” said Fenn, “for she saw the cave first.”

“Of course she did, God bless her.”

“I don’t understand how the Chinese smugglers and the miners both used the cave and the secret entrances,” said Frank.

“I didn’t until I had a talk with the detectives,” said Mr. Hayward. “The Chinese used the cave a long time before Dirkfell was aware of what valuable stuff was in it. He and his gang worked in harmony with the Celestials.”

“Are they going to try to catch him?” asked Fenn.

“No, it’s not worth while, since they have broken up the smuggling gang. I guess Dirkfell will not show himself in these parts soon again.”

Nor did he, or any of his gang. The boys spent a week with Mr. Hayward. Then they started back to Duluth, to join Captain Wiggs.

They found the Modoc ready to sail, and they were warmly welcomed by the commander.

“Well, we’ve certainly had some strenuous happenings this trip,” observed Frank. “I don’t think we’ll have such lively times again.” But he was mistaken, they did have plenty of adventures, and what some of them were I shall relate in another book, to be called “Bart Keene’s Hunting Days.”

THE END