Chan rode nearer as if he had not heard.  He checked his horse deliberately, undoubtedly inwardly excited by the news he had to tell and perhaps somewhat triumphant because he was its bearer.  “I’m coming back because there ain’t no use in staying at Snowy Gulch any longer,” he answered at last.  “I’ve got the supplies, and I’m packin’ up to the claim, just as I was told.”

“But why didn’t you go to Bradleyburg and record the claim?” Ray stormed.  “Don’t you know until that’s done we’re likely to be chased off any minute?”

Chan looked into his partner’s angry eyes, and his own lips drew in a scowl.  “Because there wasn’t any use in goin’ to Bradleyburg.”

Ray was stricken with terror, and his words faltered.  “You mean you could tend to it in Snowy Gulch—­”

“I don’t mean nothing of the kind.  Shut up a minute, and I’ll tell you about it.  A few days ago Steve Morris got a letter addressed to old Hiram Melville—­in care of Steve.  He opened it and read it, and I heard about it soon as I got into town.  There ain’t no use of our trying to record that claim.”

“For God’s sake, why?”

“Because it’s already recorded, that’s why.  We all felt so sure, and we wasn’t sure at all.  Before old Hiram died he wrote a letter—­one of them two letters you heard about, Neilson—­and which you wished you’d got hold of.  Who that letter was to was an official in Bradleyburg—­an old friend of Hiram’s—­and in it was a description of the claim.  This letter Morris got was a notice that his claim was all properly filed in his—­Hiram’s—­name.  Whatever formalities was necessary was cut out because the old man had been too sick to make the trip—­the recorder got special permission from Victoria.  To be plain, I didn’t file the claim because it’s already filed, and I didn’t want to show myself up as a claim-jumper quite as bad as that.”

“It’s all over town—­about the claim?”

“Sure, but there won’t be a rush.  There’s quite a movement over Bradleyburg way for one thing; for another, this is a pocket country, once and for always.”

For some seconds thereafter his partners could make no intelligent response.  This bitter blow had been anticipated by neither.  But Ray was a strong man, and his self-control quickly returned to him.

“You see what that means, don’t you?” he asked Neilson.

“It means we’ve lost!”

The eyes before him narrowed and gleamed.  “So that’s what it means to you!  Well, I don’t look at it just that way.  It means to me that we’ve got to take these supplies and these pack horses and start out and find Ben Darby—­and never stop hunting till we’ve found him.”

“Of course we’ve got to rescue Beatrice—­”

“Rescuing Beatrice isn’t all of it now, by a long shot.  For the Lord’s sake, Neilson—­use your head a minute.  Didn’t old Hiram leave a will, giving this claim to his brother Ezra?  If the claim wasn’t recorded that will wouldn’t mean much—­but it is.  And hasn’t this Ben got a letter from Ezra leaving the claim to him?  Now do you want to know who owns that claim?  Ben Darby owns it, and as long as he can kick, that quarter of a million in gold can never be ours.”