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Edited by
Thomas Walker · Harry J. Turtle · Maher Kooli ·
Elaheh Nikbakht

Fintech and
Sustainability
How Financial
Technologies Can Help
Address Today’s
Environmental and
Societal Challenges
Fintech and Sustainability
 Thomas Walker · Harry J. Turtle ·
Maher Kooli · Elaheh Nikbakht
Editors

Fintech
and Sustainability
How Financial Technologies Can Help Address
Today’s Environmental and Societal Challenges
Editors
Thomas Walker Harry J. Turtle
John Molson School of Business Finance & Real Estate
Concordia University Colorado State University
Montreal, QC, Canada Fort Collins, CO, USA

Maher Kooli Elaheh Nikbakht

School of Management (ESG) John Molson School of Business
Université du Québec À Montréal Concordia University
Montreal, QC, Canada Montreal, QC, Canada

ISBN 978-3-031-40646-1 ISBN 978-3-031-40647-8 (eBook)

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-40647-8

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer
Nature Switzerland AG 2023

This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the
Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights
of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on
microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and
retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology
now known or hereafter developed.
The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc.
in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such
names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for
general use.
The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and informa-
tion in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither
the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with
respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been
made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps
and institutional affiliations.

This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature
Switzerland AG
The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

Paper in this product is recyclable.

 Preface

In the ever-evolving landscape of financial technology (fintech), transfor-

mative advancements are reshaping every aspect of our lives. As scientists
and practitioners delve into the various possibilities to utilize these inno-
vations, new horizons emerge where fintech intersects with sustainability.
Fintech innovations have the potential to enhance accessibility, trans-
parency, and accountability, and unlock new opportunities for sustainable
finance. With the power of data analytics, artificial intelligence, and
machine learning, financial institutions can assess environmental risks,
identify sustainable investment opportunities, and allocate resources more
efficiently. Moreover, fintech solutions enable the integration of environ-
mental, social, and governance (ESG) factors into investment decisions,
fostering responsible investing practices and encouraging businesses to
adopt sustainable practices. This book investigates the effect and appli-
cation of fintech on different aspects of sustainability in various industries
ranging from the maritime sector to banking.
Contributors to this collective comprise distinguished scholars from the
international community and experienced practitioners who have exten-
sively explored the intersection of fintech and sustainability. The book
examines how fintech can improve sustainability in three different dimen-
sions. First, the book explores how fintech can improve sustainability in an
environmental context covering topics such as climate change and CO2
emissions. The book continues by exploring whether fintech can enhance
the financial inclusion of marginalized groups. The last chapter of the

v
vi PREFACE

book is dedicated to exploring fintech at the governance level and shows

how financial technologies can support sustainable business models and
pave the way for sustainable financing and green investment.

Montreal, Canada Thomas Walker

Fort Collins, USA Harry J. Turtle
Montreal, Canada Maher Kooli
Montreal, Canada Elaheh Nikbakht
 Acknowledgments

We acknowledge the financial support provided through the Jacques

Ménard—BMO Centre for Capital Markets at Concordia University. In
addition, we appreciate the excellent copy-editing and editorial assis-
tance we received from Eimear Rosato, Gabrielle Machnik-Kekesi, Maya
Michaeli, Meaghan Landrigan-Buttle, Mauran Pavan, Miles Murphy, and
Victoria Kelly.

vii
 Contents

Part I Introduction
1 Fintech and Sustainability: An Overview 3
Thomas Walker, Harry J. Turtle, Maher Kooli,
and Elaheh Nikbakht

Part II Fintech and Environmental Sustainability

2 Scaling up Climate Finance Through
Blockchain-Based Digital Green Bonds 13
Yushi Chen
3 Green Energy, Emissions, and Blockchain Technology 29
Tony Erwin and Baozhong Yang
4 The Role of Green Finance in Supporting Maritime
Sustainable Development 53
Massimo Arnone and Tiziana Crovella

Part III Fintech and Social Sustainability

5 Does Fintech Contribute to Fair and Equitable
Outcomes? 91
Lakshmi Shankar Ramachandran

ix
x CONTENTS

6 Fintech, Financial Inclusion, and Social Challenges:

The Role of Financial Technology in Social Inequality 107
Simona Cosma and Giuseppe Rimo
7 The Metaverse’s Inspiration for Sustainable Business:
Restructuring Economic Logic, Capital, Assets,
Organization, and Industry 129
Yushi Chen

Part IV Fintech and Governance Sustainability

8 Circular Economy: A Fintech Driven Solution
for Sustainable Practices 149
Vincent Grégoire and Kevin Guay
9 The Role of Fintech in the Field of Sustainability
and Financing 169
Niccole Jordan, Patrick Röthlisberger, Julia Meyer,
and Beat Affolter
10 The Mediating Role of Fintech on ESG and Bank
Performance 191
Nur Badriyah Mokhtar and Ashraful Alam
11 Integrating AI to Increase the Effectiveness of ESG
Projects 219
Sean Stein Smith

Index 233
 Notes on Contributors

Beat Affolter is Professor of Financial Management at the ZHAW School

of Management and Law and heads the Center for Corporate Perfor-
mance and Sustainable Financing. His research focuses on corporate
finance and sustainability with a particular focus on financial innovation.
Beat Affolter holds a Ph.D. in Banking and Finance from the University
of Zurich and has worked in the financial consulting industry.
Ashraful Alam is a lecturer in the Accounting, Finance, & Economics
(AF&E) Department at the University of Salford. He is also working
as a program director for the M.Sc. in International Corporate Finance.
Before joining Salford, he taught at the University of York and Leeds
Beckett University. Moreover, he previously held an assistant professor
position at the University of Dhaka, Bangladesh. He obtained his Ph.D.
from the University of York.
Massimo Arnone is currently a fixed-term researcher in Political
Economy at the Department of Economics and Business of the University
of Catania in the context of a research project on the topic of FINTECH
and Social Impact Finance. He has a Ph.D. in Economic Analysis,
Technological Innovation, and Management of Territorial Development
Policies and was Research Fellow at the ISSIRFA Institute of the CNR
and also at the Department of Political Sciences of the University of
Bari. Over the years, he has had various collaborations with national and
international research centers (CASMEF-LUISS Guido Carli, EURICSE,

xi
xii NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS

SRM-Studies and Research for Southern Italy, OBI-Osservatorio Banche

e Imprese). He is the author of numerous publications investigating the
relationship between finance and economic growth and new planning
models of local development.
Yushi Chen is a doctoral researcher at the Science Policy Research Unit
of the University of Sussex, UK (ranked third in the world among science
and technology think tanks, and first in the UK). He received his M.Sc.
in Climate Change, Management, and Finance from Imperial College
London and a Bachelor of Science in Business Administration (BSBA)
in Energy Management (STEM) and Finance from the University of
Tulsa. He serves as Chief Researcher at the Digital Alliance Institute
for Digital Finance Research (DAIDFR), Financial Advisory Fellow at
2060 Advisory, Climate FinTech Advisor at FinTech4Good, Member
of the Financial Technology Committee at Guangzhou Digital Finance
Association, Blockchain Expert at Shenzhen-Hong Kong-Macao Fintech
Program, Member of ISO/TC322 TAG01 Sustainable Fintech, and as
Visiting Scholar at the China Institute for Science and Technology Policy
at Tsinghua University (CISTP).
Simona Cosma is Associate Professor in Financial Markets and Institu-
tions at the University of Bologna, Italy. From 2011 to November 2022,
she was Associate Professor in Financial Markets and Institutions at the
University of Salento, Italy, where she taught Risk Management in Banks
and the Economics of Financial Intermediaries. She previously worked as
Affiliated Professor at the SDA Bocconi School of Management (Banking
and Insurance Department), Milan, Italy. Her research mainly focuses
on risk management, corporate governance, and sustainability. She is an
author and co-author of many books and articles in international schol-
arly journals such as Business Strategy and the Environment, Corporate
Social Responsibility and Environmental Management, and the Journal
of Management & Governance. She is a board member of a financial
company (Banca Popolare Pugliese) and a listed non-financial company
(Monrif).
Tiziana Crovella is Assistant Professor in Commodities Sciences at the
University of Bari, Department of Economics, Management and Busi-
ness Law (Italy). She holds a Ph.D. in Technology and Management
from the Department of Economics, Management and Business Law,
University of Bari Aldo Moro, Italy, and a Master’s Degree in Economics
 NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS xiii

and Management of Tourism. During a research fellowship, she studied

the circular economy in agriculture. She is also a scientific tutor in a II
Level of Master Port City School in collaboration with the University
of Venice. Her scientific activity deals with these items: maritime sector
and tourism, material flow analysis (MFA), life cycle assessment (LCA),
big data, sustainability indicators, and the circular economy. She is the
author of numerous publications investigating the relationship between
the maritime sector and sustainability.
Tony Erwin is Senior Principal Systems Engineer at Extreme Networks.
Tony has more than 20 years of high-tech sales and business development
experience performing consulting and high-tech sales for cloud, IoT, and
5 G-related solutions. He has designed and developed automation soft-
ware for large mobile operators and performed consultative selling to
Verizon, Ericsson, AT&T & T-Mobile. Tony has been part of various
green energy projects in renewable energy as an active investor and exec-
utive including executing off-take agreements with British Petroleum
(BP). He has a Master’s in Finance (MSF) with a Fintech concen-
tration from Georgia State University, J. Mack Robinson College of
Business. Tony is also actively involved with machine learning, crypto,
blockchain, and AI and does consultative work with Fintech companies
in Atlanta and serves on the Technology Association of Georgia Fintech
Society steering committee.
Charlotte Esme Frank completed her bachelor’s degree in the Human-
ities at Carleton University, Ottawa. She holds an M.A. in English
Literature and Creative Writing from Concordia University, Montreal,
where she is a research associate at the John Molson School of Busi-
ness. Charlotte is currently completing a Ph.D. with a focus on the poet
Elizabeth Bishop at McGill University.
Vincent Grégoire is tenured Associate Professor of Finance at HEC
Montréal, where he holds Research Professorship in Financial Big Data
Analytics. He holds a Ph.D. in Finance from the University of British
Columbia and degrees in Computer Engineering and Financial Engi-
neering from Université Laval in Quebec. His academic research interests
are in information economics, market microstructure, and big data and
machine learning applications in finance. His research has been published
in leading academic journals such as the Journal of Financial Economics,
xiv NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS

the Journal of Accounting Research, and the Journal of Financial and

Quantitative Analysis.
Kevin Guay holds a B.B.A. in Finance from Bishop’s University in Sher-
brooke, Canada. He is pursuing an M.Sc. in Finance at HEC Montréal,
where he was a teaching assistant for the graduate-level course Empir-
ical Finance. Kevin currently works at Caisse de dépôt et placements du
Québec (CDPQ), a leading global asset manager, as an analyst under the
Private Debt Team. Kevin’s research interests are focused on sustainable
finance and impact investing.
Niccole Jordan is a senior lecturer at the Center of Competence of
Corporate Performance & Sustainable Finance at the ZHAW School of
Management and Law. She holds a master’s degree in finance from the
University of Zurich and has gained a wealth of practical experience within
the financial sector. Her research interests include linking sustainability
and digitalization within the fields of finance and accounting.
Victoria Kelly recently graduated from Concordia University (Montreal)
with a B.Sc. in Biology with an additional major in Irish Studies. She plans
to pursue her studies with an independent master’s degree examining the
1832 cholera epidemic and its management on a social, urban, economic,
and medical level, drawing parallels with the recent COVID-19 pandemic.
Maher Kooli is Professor of Finance in the Department of Finance of
the School of Management (ESG), Université du Québec à Montréal
(UQAM), and head of the Finance Department. He is also Caisse de
Depot et Placement de Québec (CDPQ) research chair-holder in port-
folio management, founder of the trading room at ESG UQAM, and
Autorité des marchés financiers (AMF) and Finance Montreal research
co-chair-holder in Fintech at ESG UQAM. Previously, Professor Kooli
worked as a senior research advisor for la Caisse de dépôt et place-
ment du Québec. His research interests include initial public offerings,
mergers and acquisitions, venture capital, hedge funds, Fintech, portfolio
management, and corporate finance. He has published in many presti-
gious academic journals and has several books on financial management,
venture capital, and hedge funds. He is also a member of the Edito-
rial Board of the Journal of Asset Management, the Journal of Wealth
Management, and Risk Management.
 NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS xv

Meaghan Landrigan-Buttle holds a Master’s degree in History from

Concordia University (Montreal), with a focus on Irish Studies. Meaghan
has experience in project management, conference planning, and tutoring,
and holds a professional development certificate in Professional Editing
from the University of Waterloo. She has worked as a teaching assis-
tant in the History Department and at the School of Irish Studies at
Concordia. Her research interests include the First World War, the uses
and misuses of history, the consumption of history via popular culture
and commemoration, memory studies, and genealogy.
Gabrielle Kathleen Machnik-Kekesi is Ph.D. Candidate and Hardiman
Research Scholar at the Centre for Irish Studies at the National University
of Ireland, Galway. She holds an Individualized Program master’s degree
from Concordia University, which was funded by both the Social Sciences
and Humanities Research Council (SSHRC) and the Fonds de Recherche
du Québec en Société et Culture (FRQSC) and a Master’s in Informa-
tion Studies from McGill University. Gabrielle’s research interests include
modern Irish history, food, domestic space, and cultural heritage.
Julia Meyer works as a senior lecturer and researcher at the ZHAW
School of Management and Law. After her studies in economics, she
worked in financial consulting with a focus on compensation, value-
based management, and valuation. In her current research, she studies
the measurement of sustainability and impact and the related capital
market effects (e.g., performance and information asymmetry). Julia holds
a Ph.D. in Finance from the University of Zurich.
Nur Badriyah Mokhtar is a Ph.D. student at the University of Salford.
She formerly worked as a bank executive for 8 years at Kuwait Finance
House, a Middle Eastern bank, in Malaysia. In 2018, she graduated with
a Master’s in Banking from the University of Utara Malaysia.
Miles Murphy is a graduate of the School of Irish Studies at Concordia
University. He has been a researcher, writer, and editor on a variety of
projects and publications. He is former Professional Test Developer and
Standards Manager and was Director of Exam Design and Development
with Moody’s Analytics. He has experience in the areas of adult education,
finance, the built environment, mining, energy, health, and public safety.
xvi NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS

Elaheh Nikbakht holds an M.Sc. degree in Finance from the John

Molson School of Business, Concordia University. She currently serves
as Research Associate in the Emerging Risks Information Center (ERIC)
and the Jacques Ménard/BMO Center for Capital Markets at Concordia
University. In addition, she works as Senior Data and Reporting Analyst
in Global Entity Services at Maples Group. Elaheh completed her under-
graduate degree and M.B.A. in Iran. She has been awarded several
scholarships and awards for her academic performance, including the
Arbour Foundation Scholarship and the Bourse D’études D’excellence
du Centre Desjardins D’innovation en Financement D’entreprises.
Mauran Pavan is an undergraduate student in Computer Science-Web
Services and Applications at Concordia University. He has previous expe-
rience working at a start-up in the entertainment and tourism sector. His
interests lie in FinTech, sustainability, and emerging new technologies.
Lakshmi Shankar Ramachandran is Associate Professor in the Practice
of Finance at the Goizueta Business School, Emory University. Previ-
ously, he served as Assistant Professor of Banking and Finance at the
Weatherhead School of Management, Case Western Reserve University.
He earned his Ph.D. in Finance from EdHEC, M.S. in Computa-
tional Finance from Carnegie Mellon University, and B.S. in Technology
(B.Tech) from IIT (Indian Institute of Technology), Madras. Shankar’s
primary research interest lies in the area of Fintech and empirical asset
pricing. His papers have appeared, among other journals, in the Journal
of Financial Economics (JFE). He has received several prestigious research
grants, including the inaugural grant for capital markets instituted by New
York University and the National Stock Exchange of India. Shankar has
more than fifteen years of experience teaching graduate-level courses on
Artificial Intelligence, Blockchain Technology, Fintech, Quantitative Risk
Modeling, and Corporate Risk Management.
Giuseppe Rimo is Ph.D. Candidate in Digital Transformation and
Sustainability at the University of Salento, Lecce, Italy. He has a master’s
degree in economics, finance, and insurance and a bachelor’s degree in
economics and finance. His research interests broadly concern banking,
digital transformation, and sustainability in financial intermediation.
Another random document with
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 “Listen here, you!” he snarled. “I’ll take your orders when it’s part of my
job. I’m gettin’ paid for it. But I’m not gettin’ paid to answer questions!
Understand?”
Teddy’s eyes narrowed. He stepped toward the man.
“You just forget I’m a boss,” the boy said deliberately. “I’ll forget it too.
There’s little room in this outfit for a bird like you. But you know how
we’re fixed. We have to take what comes. Now, if you crave action, drop
that cinch-strap and—”
“Hey, Teddy!” It was Pop, yelling from the ranch-house porch. “Yore
dad wants to speak to you!”
The boy did not turn immediately. Instead, he stood staring at Silent.
The puncher released his hold on the strap, but he did not face about.
“Fade,” Silent said briefly. “I’m busy.”
“You can be a lot busier,” Teddy declared. “Maybe we’ll talk this over
later.”
He went slowly toward the house. Pop was waiting for him, a quizzical
look on his face.
“Talkin’ to that human phonograph?” he asked.
Teddy nodded.
“Some,” he answered dryly. “Wants a going over, I’m afraid. I hate to
make trouble, but that bird isn’t going to be any dove of peace around
here.”
“Yea, I know.” Pop regarded Teddy closely. “Take it easy, son,” he said
quietly. “You’ll live longer. Yore dad’s waitin’.”
 CHAPTER XI

The Fight
The first day on the range drew to a close with every man too tired to do
much talking. A meal from the chuck wagon restored their spirits
somewhat, but blankets were spread early and the full moon arose and
shone on the still forms of sleeping cow punchers.
Teddy did not resume his argument with Silent. When it was necessary
for him to speak to the wrangler he did so tersely and received nods in
answer. By noon of the second day the cattle were well bunched and on the
way to the cars, just above Eagles.
Wednesday morning, the third day out, their job was nearly completed.
There remained simply the loading.
Silent, dismounted, was waiting beside the runway to prevent the cattle
from swerving as they were driven up and into the cars. Roy had told him
that it would be safer mounted, but Silent grunted and Roy shrugged his
shoulders and walked away.
The puncher carried a double-thonged whip in his hand, a short, wicked
looking instrument. Suddenly Teddy, who was standing near, saw him slash
down with it and catch a cow full across the back. A red weal sprang up and
blood dripped from where he had struck.
Teddy, his cheeks burning, leaped from his horse and seized the
puncher’s arm.
“Let’s see that whip!” he cried, and yanked it toward him. Silent stood
quietly, a sardonic look on his face.
In the ends of the whip-thongs were set jagged pieces of tin, and to give
them weight just behind them were sewed lead “sinkers.”
Teddy, as he saw them, clenched his fists, and tossed the whip from him.
“So that’s it!” he exclaimed, and leaped. His first blow caught Silent on
the side of the face.
The puncher drew a sudden breath and shook his head to clear it. Then
he went into the fight.
 The punchers of the neighborhood still talk about that scrap. Teddy, ten
pounds lighter than his antagonist, danced about, now getting in a blow and
stepping out, then in again. Silent fought with short, vicious swings. One of
these caught the boy fairly on the jaw, and he went down.
Roy rushed toward him, as did Nick and Bug Eye.
“Keep back!” Teddy yelled. “This is mine!”
He scrambled up and returned to the attack. The tide of battle now had
taken the fighters some distance from the cattle, which was fortunate,
otherwise one of them might have been stepped on or gored.
The other punchers stopped their work to watch. The cattle were quiet,
and there was no danger of a break. From all directions the railroad men
came running, quick to sense excitement. There was soon a circle of yelling
men about the two battlers.
“Sock him, Teddy, sock him!” Bug Eye shouted. “Atta baby!”
“Stick in there, Silent!” Jack Conroy implored. “I’m with you, anyhow!
Let him have it!”
Roy said nothing. He was watching the fight intently.
Teddy got in a straight right to the stomach, then a left to the face. But as
he did so Silent crossed him and sent Teddy staggering with a left that cut
the boy’s cheek. Both were breathing hard.
“Back at him, Teddy!” Nick yelled hoarsely. “Another to the bread-
basket!”
This was what Teddy did. He set himself, and drove his right fist into
Silent’s “bread-basket,” otherwise his stomach. Silent gave ground and the
circle opened. Teddy, seeing his chance, rushed in and planted a right to the
jaw.
But Silent did not fall. He gave more ground, and then, so suddenly that
no one was aware of it, he was in front of the cattle, between them and the
runway which led into the car that was being loaded.
There was a shout of warning. The cows, frightened at the strange figure
that was catapulted before them, moved restlessly, and one of them started
forward.
Silent saw the beast coming, but could not avoid those menacing horns.
Those near him heard a groan, and the puncher thrust out his hands, as
though to ward off the impending danger.
 But it was Teddy, who was closest to him, Teddy, whose face was
dripping blood, that saved Silent’s life. There was but one thing to do, and
Teddy did it.
He left his feet and made a football dive toward Silent. His outstretched
arms swept the puncher from under the hoofs of that cow—from under the
sharp hoofs that would have trampled the puncher in another moment. The
cow went on up the runway and into the car. Teddy and Silent hit the
ground together, and were pulled from further danger by ready hands. The
fight was over.
The contestants were led into the shade of the station, and Roy put his
hands on Teddy’s shoulders.
“Let’s see,” he said.
The cut on Teddy’s cheek was red and angry looking, but not deep.
Silent was a bit worse, as one of his eyes was closed and he seemed unable
to walk straight. But he staggered over to Teddy.
“Buddy,” he said breathlessly, “thanks!”
Teddy nodded. “All right! Say—” he hesitated. “What was the idea of
hitting the cow with that thing?”
Silent touched his chin tenderly.
“Baby, you sure can sock! Oh, that cow? I saw her duck her head. She’d
have started a break in another second. I had to take her mind off it quick.
Sometimes cows are like that. Hey, I ain’t apologizin’!” This last rather
frantically. “What I done, I done! Only, I never hit a cow with that thing
unless there’s danger. I reckon—” he drew a deep breath—“I’ll sit down.”
Teddy stared at the man a moment. Somehow he seemed different, as
though there was something in him that had not been apparent before.
“You didn’t do it just out of meanness, then?”
Jack Conroy stepped forward.
“Mean?” he shouted. “Silent, mean? Say, buddy, he’s the kindest—”
“Buckle it up!” Silent tersely ordered from his place on the ground.
“This ain’t no debatin’ society.”
The men wandered away. Nick and Bug Eye returned to the cows. Teddy
bent down and thrust out his hand.
“Want to shake?” he asked quietly.
 Silent got to his feet and eyed the boy in amazement.
“You mean I ain’t fired?”
“Not any! I didn’t get the idea, that was all. I thought you did it for fun.”
Silent grasped Teddy’s hand.
“Buddy,” he said feelingly, “you’re O. K. with me. I owe you plenty.”
He grinned. “Besides this here eye an’ jaw, I mean. Reckon I had ’em
comin’ to me.”
The hands gripped and parted. There was that pause that so often comes
when two people suddenly meet as friends. It was Roy who broke the
silence.
“Personally, I’d recommend a visit to the old pump for both of you,” he
said dryly. “You’re enough to scare any cows.”
“Let’s go,” Teddy suggested quickly. “There’s some water behind the
station. I have a clean handkerchief that’ll do for a towel.”
“An’ with that he walks off,” Conroy snickered. “Baby, wasn’t that a
scrap? Never saw the like. Fightin’ fools, them two. Silent, he ain’t no
slouch, let me tell you. Yet your brother certainly laid him out pretty. Laid
him out, an’ saved his life. Say, listen, Manley.” His tone grew more
serious. “Some people get a wrong slant on Silent. They think he’s ornery.
He ain’t, nothin’ like it. He’s just naturally quiet. Most people think his
breakfast soured on him. But if you’d had your brother shot down before
your eyes, an’ seen your old man try to get the killers an’ stop a bullet
hisself, I reckon—” he stopped in confusion. “An’ I promised Silent I
wouldn’t say nothin’ about it!” he declared regretfully.
“Did that happen to Neville?” Roy demanded.
“It sure did. They had a cabin about three hundred miles from here—
him, his dad, an’ brother. Then—well, here he is.”
“Who shot them?”
“Oh, a couple of waddies. Silent saw ’em, him lyin’ on a cot burnin’ up
with fever. He tried to get ’em, but, shucks, what could he do? They robbed
the shack of a thousand dollars in gold that old man Neville had just bought
from a miner and vamoosed. So here I am, an’ here Silent is.” He turned
away.
“I see,” Roy mused. “So that’s it? How long ago did this happen?”
“Three months.”
 “Man, that’s tough lines!” Roy breathed. “Poor fellow! He’s alone now,
is he?”
“I’m with him,” Conroy flung back. “An’ I aims to stay with him, too!
Well, I reckon I’d better help with them cows.”
 CHAPTER XII

A Crack at Fortune
They were back at the X Bar X again. The cattle had been loaded and
sent rumbling toward Chicago. Things were quiet, and the punchers, except
those who were riding fence, occupied themselves with jobs about the
ranch.
Mr. Manley observed Teddy’s face, took a look at Silent, and said
nothing. He knew. And when he saw Teddy and Silent throwing a jackknife
into a small ring on the side of the bunk-house, trying to see who could
come closest to the center, he grinned widely and said to Mrs. Manley, who
stood with him on the porch of the ranch house:
“See it, Barbara? Reckon Teddy’s made a new friend.”
Mrs. Manley smiled and laid a hand on her husband’s arm.
“Bardwell,” she said, “men are inexplicable creatures! Teddy and that
other—Silent, they call him—had a fight, didn’t they?”
“And from all accounts it was some scrap! Why?” He was chuckling.
“It seems so strange that it should need that to bring them together. I
should think—”
“Now, watch out for that thinkin’ business. People have been known to
get headaches that-a-way,” the rancher chuckled again. “A good scrap once
in a while is better than a spring tonic. Say, Mother—” his voice became
serious—“Teddy and Roy haven’t said much, but I’ve got a hunch they’re
hankerin’ for something—or rather, to take a little trip.”
“A trip? Where?”
“Well—” he turned toward her—“if you ask me, I’d say they were
achin’ to take a crack at Nugget Camp.”
“The place where that man—Pop’s cousin—was shot? Bardwell, we
can’t let them go there!”
“Now, sweetness, you got that wrong!” Mr. Manley protested. “Decker
didn’t get shot at the camp. He was ridin’ away from it when he was held
up. There’s no real danger. An’ the work here is pretty well under way. It
would certainly be a grand experience for the boys.”
 Mrs. Manley nodded and smiled.
“If you say so, Bardwell—and they aren’t really children any more, are
they?”
“Children!” The long mustache trembled and a twinkle came into the
blue eyes. “Children! Well, Mother, if you think they are—but we’ll let that
go. Then you don’t mind if I tell them?”
“About Nugget Camp? No, Bardwell, as you say, it will probably be
good for them—only I do hope they’ll be careful.”
“Now, Mother, you know they will! Never failed to come through
anything they started, did they? You watch ’em carry home a hat full of
gold!” He strode down the steps and went toward Teddy and Silent. They
heard him coming and turned.
“Where’s Roy?” Mr. Manley asked.
“Helping Pop do something or other,” Teddy replied. Silent stood a bit to
one side, his face expressionless.
“I’ve got something to tell him—to tell you, too, for that matter. Things
pretty well cleaned up around here?”
“Yes, sir.” Teddy realized that his father knew exactly the condition of
the ranch and recognized in the question an implication of his
responsibility. Teddy and Roy were the real bosses of the X Bar X. Mr.
Manley had put the affairs of the ranch into their hands.
“Well, then, I reckon it’s about time you an’ Roy took a trip, hey?” And
Mr. Manley grinned.
“A trip?” Understanding came quickly. “You mean Nugget Camp?”
“Uh-huh. What about it?”
“I guess you know how much Roy and I would like to try it,” Teddy said
eagerly. “But we haven’t said anything—we were needed here.”
“Yea! But now that we’ve got that shipment off, things are easin’ up
some. So, if you want to—”
“If we want to! Wait till Roy hears this!” Teddy glanced over toward
Silent. “Say, Dad,” he said awkwardly, “could you spare Silent here?”
“Silent?” Mr. Manley gazed at the puncher. “You want to go too?”
“Well, you see it’s this way,” Silent answered uneasily. “I heard there
was two fellers hangin’ around Nugget Camp, that—I want to meet.” His
voice became tense. “That I want to meet real bad! An’ if it’s all the same to
you, I’d like to go along with Teddy an’ Roy, if they go. I’ve a reason.”
Mr. Manley nodded. Roy had told him privately the story of Silent’s
recent tragedy, and the man understood and sympathized with the grim
puncher.
“I reckon we can fix that,” he said after a moment. “Here’s what I
thought. Suppose you, Teddy, an’ Roy an’ Nick make up a party an’ stake a
few claims. I can spare you-all, I reckon. Four will be just about right. An’
you can start to-morrow, if you want to.”
“That’s great, Dad!” Teddy exclaimed. “Silent, let’s get Roy.”
The two hurried off, Mr. Manley watching them go. His eyes were
tender, his lips half open.
“Teddy,” he muttered, “come back the way you go!” and he went into
the house.
When he heard the news, Roy was as excited as his brother. Bug Eye
declared that he was going straightway to ask Mr. Manley for time off.
“He don’t need me now,” the puncher from the 8 X 8 declared. “I might
just as well go with you fellows. Say, I know what! My boss said I could
take a vacation soon, an’ here’s where I take it! I was plannin’ to head for
Nugget Camp myself, then when Mr. Ball heard from yore dad, Teddy, he
asked me to fill in here, an’ of course I did. But things are easy—lettin’ up.
So I can go, me an’ my Tin Lizzie! You wait!”
He ran toward the ranch house to interview Mr. Manley, and returned in
five minutes with a broad grin on his face.
“O. K.,” he said loudly. “I’m with you! To-morrow mornin’ early I starts
for the 8 X 8 to get an outfit.”
“Say, Bug Eye, while you’re there, ask Jerry Decker a few questions,”
Roy suggested. “Where is a good place to locate, and so forth. He ought to
know. He was at Nugget Camp nearly two years.”
“An’ get him to tell you how much fun gold minin’ is,” Pop, strolling up
at that moment, said dryly. “Let him tell you about the picnic he had!”
“We’re not going for fun,” Teddy asserted. “Anyhow, Pop, you said there
was a good chance to get some gold.”
“Oh, I ain’t goin’ back on that. Silent, here, knows somethin’ about
minin’. Don’t you, Silent?”
 The puncher nodded. “A little,” he said briefly. “I been on a few rushes.”
“Jack Conroy gonna stay here?” Pop asked.
“Yep.” Silent lit a cigarette. “I asked him to. The whole ranch can’t
leave.”
“You’re right as rain there,” Pop agreed. “Then it’s you, Teddy, Roy, and
Nick?”
“Bug Eye is figuring on coming too,” Teddy said. “Going to bring his
flivver—hey, Bug Eye?”
“So that’s why you said you was goin’ back to-morrow,” Pop mused.
“All I heard was the part about askin’ Jerry to tell you where to locate. Well,
you’ll need all the advice you can get! It’s no joke, livin’ in a minin’ camp.
Plenty can happen, an’ then some.”
“Maybe that’s the reason we’re going,” Teddy said, grinning.
“Me, I’m gonna’ get rich!” Bug Eye boasted. “Rich as Creosote. You-all
heard of him, ain’t you? He found a whole hill full o’ di’monds!”
“Save it for some cold night at Nugget Camp,” Teddy advised. “We’ll
need all the entertainment we can get.”
“Somethin’ tells me you’ll have plenty of entertainment,” Pop grunted.
“I gotta be goin’. Got things to do. See you before you leave.”
“Queer cuss,” Silent declared. It was the first observation he had made in
some minutes. “Good guy, though!”
“I’ll tell a maverick he is!” Roy agreed. “Pop’s all right. Don’t you
forget, Bug Eye, to ask Jerry Decker a few questions. I wouldn’t bother him
much if he isn’t feeling all right, but Pop told us he was much better.”
“Sure, I know,” Bug Eye declared. “Leave it to me. Yay boy! Nugget
Camp! Gold! By golly, I’m gonna get me three new flivvers!”
“And then retire and live on the fat of the land, I suppose,” Teddy put in.
“Anyhow, we’ll take a crack at fortune!”
“Here’s hopin’ she smiles,” the puncher muttered. “In fact, I wouldn’t
kick if she grinned wide enough to split her mouth. See you later, boys!”
 CHAPTER XIII

Off to Nugget Camp

That evening the sole topic of conversation on the X Bar X was the
intended trip to Nugget Camp.
Strangely enough, the fact that Teddy and Roy and a few others were
going did not tend to excite the rest of the punchers, or cause them to throw
up their jobs and head for the gold fields. They felt, perhaps, that good jobs
did not grow on every sagebush, and the reputation of the X Bar X ranch
for fair treatment of the hands and for excellent food was known far and
wide. Most of the new men decided to stay on, and let those who would test
their luck in other lands.
Jack Conroy, when he learned that his partner, Silent, was going, at first
declared his intention of accompanying him. But Silent took him to one
side, and the result of the conference was that Jack remained at the ranch.
Pop, as garrulous as ever, spent the evening in telling those who would
listen of the many times he had participated in gold rushes.
“Course, I knew more about it than most of them waddies,” he would
say. “An’ as soon as I see those funny specks of yeller stuff I’d tell ’em to
locate there. You bet they did, too.” He would hesitate a moment, and,
reaching back, would tap the bunk-house wall. “Some of the rock was as
soft as this wood. Softer, some of it.”
“And they found the gold?”
“Well, they did an’ they didn’t. I mind one time—”
But this was too much for his audience. It was the fourth time he had let
loose that “Well, they did an’ they didn’t.” The punchers felt justified in
ringing down the curtain, which they did by the simple process of tipping
over the bench Pop was sitting on.
Teddy and Roy, who had been listening, wandered toward the house.
“I kind of wish he was coming with us,” Teddy chuckled. “Make it a
little livelier.”
“He’ll be better on the ranch,” Roy replied. “Dad wants some one he can
depend on. Boy, it sure is a grand and glorious feeling to know we’re going
to take a crack at gold mining! And something tells me we’re going to be
successful, too! Well, let’s see now—a house on Fifth Avenue, New York, a
winter place in Florida, a shooting box in Canada for the fall months, a
château in France, a—”
“Hey, how many seasons you think the year’s got?”
“Oh, well, personally, I’m going to live right here all year,” Roy said
simply. “I just want those things, in case.”
“Uh-huh,” Teddy grunted. “You find the gold first. Baby, I’m tired! Let’s
hit the hay. We have plenty to do to-morrow.”
In truth, there was “plenty to do” before the young prospectors could
start for Nugget Camp. Bug Eye left early for the 8 X 8, and arranged to
meet the others at the new strike within four days. Then Teddy and Roy
began their preparations.
There were four of them from the X Bar X going—Teddy and Roy
Manley, Nick Looker, and Silent Neville. Silent, who had been mining
before, was called into consultation.
“Besides the broncs, we’ll need, say, three mules,” he declared. “That’s
for our packs an’ stuff.”
“Going to take sluice-boxes?” Nick asked. Sluice-boxes are troughs, in
sections twelve feet long, with screens and retaining cleats over which the
gold-bearing material is worked by means of a constantly flowing stream of
water.
“No. Not necessary. We can make them when we get there. What we
need most are shovels, picks, pans, a few saws, some canned stuff, blankets,
lanterns, and—say, what sort of a district is this Nugget Camp? Any timber
around? Any water?” Silent inquired.
“Both,” Nick answered. “I rode through the place about eight months
ago.”
“O.K. Then that’s settled. Now, how about sleeping? You got any tents?”
“Dad’s got two, I think,” Roy declared. “But they’re not so new.”
“They’ll do, I reckon. Two is better than one big one—easier to put up
an’ better sleepin’. Long as we’re takin’ tents, we might as well cart a few
folding cots.”
“I bet Dad’s got cots some place around,” Teddy asserted. “He used to
do a lot of camping.”
 “Then I reckon we’re all fixed up. Where can we get the mules?”
“Slim Bannister’s got a hoss farm ’bout ten miles away,” Nick said. “Got
some mules there. He sells pretty cheap.”
After all was decided upon, Mr. Manley looked over the list and went to
his office. When he returned he handed Roy a few bills of large
denomination.
“Grub stake,” he said casually. “You pay me back when you strike it
rich.”
“Right,” Roy answered. Mr. Manley grinned. His son was taking it like a
veteran. None of this “thanks, Dad” stuff. All business.
“I suppose we go fifty-fifty?” the ranch owner asked innocently. “I
reckon that’s the usual.”
“Sure,” Roy agreed. “Fifty-fifty. You’ll have four times as much as this
when we get back.” He stuck the money into his pocket.
Mr. Manley nodded gravely. “Nothin’ like confidence,” he said. “Go
ahead now. Don’t let me keep you. When you’re all set, come in an’ say
good-bye to your mother an’ me.”
“You bet we will!” the boy exclaimed, relaxing for the moment. “And
you know what this means to Teddy and me, Dad. I’m not going to—”
“Get along now,” Mr. Manley interrupted. “They’re waitin’ outside for
you!”
He clapped his son on the shoulder and turned to his desk. Roy, head up,
his eyes shining, strode toward the door. What a father he had!
Nick rode over to Bannister’s place and bought three mules. The
moment he returned with them, the loading began. Mr. Manley considered
Silent’s time of employment ended, so the puncher was relieved of all
duties on the ranch. He superintended the preparations, as befitted his
experience. Nick, while he knew something about mining from hearing the
cowboys talk of it, had never actually lived in a mining camp.
At last the hour for departure came. The brothers, mounted on Star and
Flash, were in the lead. Behind them came the three mules, well laden.
Then Nick and Silent brought up the rear. It was a two or three days’
journey to Nugget Camp. Each man had a canteen of water on his saddle,
besides a rifle, and on each belt hung a revolver.
 Mr. and Mrs. Manley, Belle Ada, Pop, and Jack Conroy were on hand to
see them off. Teddy and Roy had already said their goodbyes to their
parents, both being cautioned against “wet feet, sleeping on the ground, and
sitting in a draft when overheated” by Mrs. Manley. They grinned, and
promised to do their best to obey all instructions.
“Hey, Teddy, bring me back a gold bracelet!” Belle called. “One with my
initials on it.”
“Where you think we’re going—shopping?” Teddy replied. “Sure you
don’t want a gold watch instead?”
“Bet you bring Curly something,” Belle rejoined mischievously. “All
right—you wait! I know somebody who—”
“You’d better go to visit the 8 X 8, and see your friend Doc Ring,” Roy
called. “He’s still making calls there, I understand, to treat Jerry Decker. Bet
he misses you!”
“We’d better vamoose, after that crack,” Teddy laughed. “Come on, let’s
go! So long, people!”
“So long! So long, Silent! Good luck!”
“Good-bye, boys!”
“So long, Dad, Mother! We’ll be rich when we get back!”
“Hey, Pop, you keep my bunk for me!” This from Nick. “An’ get a
bushel basket ready to carry my gold in!”
“I got a pint measure that’ll do as well,” Pop replied shortly. “Anyhow,
good luck to you.”
Teddy glanced over at Silent. The puncher was gazing straight ahead, as
though he heard nothing of what was going on around him.
“What are you planning to do?” Teddy asked.
“Huh? Who, me?” Silent appeared startled. “Oh, you mean if I find
gold?” He thought for a moment. “I tell you, boys,” he said finally. “There’s
other things besides money in this here world. An’ there’s other things
besides gold in a mining camp.” He touched his gun with his hand, then
looked at the mules. “Get along there, you!”
 CHAPTER XIV

Some Shooting
By eleven o’clock the Manley boys and their companions were twenty
miles from the X Bar X, and on the first leg of their journey to Nugget
Camp. The day was cool, and the riding was pleasant, even considering the
slow pace they had to take on account of the mules. Silent himself seemed
more cheerful and talked freely of mining conditions and what they might
hope to find at the gold camp.
“Course, it won’t be like a new field. It’s been a mining camp before
this, ain’t it?”
“Yes, it has,” Teddy answered. “But those who worked it barely made a
living wage. Now that this has happened—”
“It’ll start the fireworks,” Nick drawled. “I reckon we’ll see Gus and the
others. Hope so. Gus owes me three bucks.”
“Three bucks will be like nothing to you, once you start picking nuggets
off the ground,” Roy laughed. “I understand they charge five dollars for a
can of beans.”
“Not me, they won’t,” Nick declared forcibly. “I can get along without
beans. Hey!” This to one of the mules. “Think you’re in a peerade? Step
along there!”
“Don’t get him excited,” Roy cautioned.
“He’s got our food on his back. Good thing those cans don’t leak.”
“That reminds me—I saw one of ’em with what looked like a hole in it,”
Nick said suddenly. “I meant to tell you when we were loadin’, only I
forgot. It’s right on top.” He urged his pony close to the mules, and,
reaching down, felt with his hand along the side of the bag carrying the
canned goods. “Uh-huh! She does!”
“Then let’s get it out,” Roy suggested. He dismounted and carefully
untied the bag. The faulty can was near the top, and he found it without
much trouble. “Tomatoes,” he said, holding it up, after tying the bag again.
“Don’t leak much, though.” He climbed into his saddle. “But I guess it isn’t
so good, after air gets to it.”
 “You’re right there,” Silent said mildly. “Might as well chuck it away.
Let’s see it.”
Roy threw him the can. He looked at it, and nodded.
“Well, it’ll make a good target,” he declared. “O. K.?”
“Go on, pepper it,” Teddy said. “Let’s see what you can do.”
The puncher rode on ahead and hitched up his belt. He held the can in
his right hand and drew back his arm.
“Let ’er ride!” Nick shouted.
Silent threw the can into the air. Then, so quickly that the eye could not
follow him, he dragged his gun from the holster. The crack of the revolver
awoke the echoes. Five times he fired, as fast as his finger could pull the
trigger. The can bounded about in the air as though attached to a string.
“Wow!” Teddy gasped. “What a man!”
Silent stared at his smoking gun.
“I may have missed once,” he said casually. “I’ll take a look.”
He slid off his pony and walked to where the can lay.
“Yep,” he said sorrowfully. “Only five holes in it. One of ’em was there
before. I missed a shot.”
“Well, for the love of Pete, you grousin’ about missin’ one in five?” Nick
exclaimed. “Let’s see the can!”
Silent handed it to him. Nick’s eyes opened wide.
“Five nice, clean holes! Hey, you didn’t miss any! One of yore shots hit
the hole that was in it already—it made it bigger! Look!”
Teddy and Roy went closer and gazed at the can. For every hole where
the bullets went in, there was a corresponding one in the other side—one
with the tin bent inward, one with it bent out—and as Nick had said, there
was a hole directly opposite the original perforation.
“Five out of five!” Roy said admiringly. “Say, puncher, where’d you
learn to shoot?”
“Didn’t learn. Had it drilled into me.” Silent responded. “My dad—” he
stopped, and turned his head away. In a moment he had recovered himself
and went on in an even tone: “My pop was one of the best shots in the West.
So was my brother. They’re both dead now.”
“Yes, we know,” Roy said quietly. “Conroy told us.”
 “He did?” Silent jerked around, his face pale. “I asked him—Well,” and
his shoulders sank, “then you know. But it was my trouble, an’ I was aimin’
to keep it to myself. Hang it! For some reason, though, I ain’t sorry that you
found out. Funny, that, ain’t it?” His face wore a puzzled look, as a child’s
does when it cannot understand some emotion.
Teddy laid a hand on Silent’s shoulder.
“I reckon, Silent, it’s because you know we’re friends of yours,” the boy
said. “I’m sorry—and that’s all I can say. If we ever get a chance—”
“Sure, I know,” Silent responded awkwardly. He got back on his horse.
“You’re all right. Just my tough luck, that’s all. I got an idea, though. An’
you might as well know that’s the reason I wanted to hit Nugget Camp. I
might get a look at a certain two waddies.” His voice grew bitter. “Two
waddies who shoot men down in cold blood an’ who sport queer lookin’
guns.”
“Queer looking—” Teddy began, when Roy motioned to him for silence.
The incident served to depress the spirits of the party somewhat, and
Nick, realizing this, took the opportunity a jack-rabbit afforded him to
lighten their mood.
“Two bits I catch him!” he shouted. “Watch them mules!”
He brought his hand down sharply on his pony’s flank. The rabbit was
about a hundred yards ahead, running easily.
“Wow!” Nick yelled. “Let’s go, bronc!”
The bronc went. At least, his head went up and his rear lowered. Nick
spread his arms wide and slid gently to the ground.
“Well, you ole leather-bustin’ sidewinder!” Nick exclaimed in pretended
anger. “Who told you to do that?”
The others watched him with amusement. A half smile came to Silent’s
lips.
“Now look-a-here, you.” Nick went close to his pony and whispered into
his ear. The horse nodded several times, aided by Nick’s hand on the bridle.
“Understand now? Then let’s go!”
With a bound Nick landed in the saddle. He yanked off his hat, slapped
the pony—and promptly slid again to the ground. By this time the rabbit
was miles away.
 The horse stood quietly, eyeing his master with a surprised look in his
eyes. Nick, from the ground, shook his fist wildly.
“So that’s it, hey? All right, then! All right!”
He leaped to his feet. As a man might toss a bag of meal, so Nick threw
himself across the saddle, his arms on one side, his legs on the other. The
pony, with a snort, started to run. But not in a straight line. His course was a
circle, with the boys in the center. Faster and faster he ran, his master
bouncing up and down.
Teddy, Roy, and Silent burst into a roar of laughter.
“Get some glue, Nick!”
“Want a rope?”
“Stick to him, kid!”
“Oh, what a bouncing baby boy!”
But Nick did not stick. The fifth time around he released his hold and
catapulted to the ground, landing on his shoulders. The pony stopped stiff-
legged, sliding three feet.
Nick rubbed his head, sat up, and stared at the horse, that stood a short
distance away.
“Honey!”
The pony moved not.
“Sweetie!”
The horse still stood.
“Snookums!”
No sign from the bronc.
“Black Bottom, you ole, lantern-jawed, hook-eyed, son of a sea-cook, if
you don’t trot over here so pronto that yore ears lay back I’ll knock yore
fool carcass so far—”
The horse whinnied, bobbed his head, and walked over to Nick. Then he
bent one knee in supplication.
“Atta baby! Now we’re all right! Hold still!”
Nick arose and climbed slowly into the saddle.
“Needs coaxin’,” he said, grinning. “You gotta talk nice to him if you
want him to do you favors! Come on, baby—we’re off. Get along there, you
mules, you!”
 CHAPTER XV

Horsemen in the Storm

Darkness found the four riders with a little over a third of their journey
completed. They selected a camp site near a running stream, and after
watering and feeding the horses and mules they built a fire for the evening
meal.
Silent, of his own accord, took charge of the cooking, which consisted
mainly in boiling the coffee, frying bacon, and heating a can of beans. He
had a way with him, however, and the food took on a certain flavor that
agreed eminently with the boys’ palates.
“Was a cook, once,” Silent explained laconically, when complimented on
the success of his meal. “In a cow camp, where the waddies either got good
food or the cook had somethin’ comin’ to him. Believe me, you gotta learn
to cook in a place like that.”
“You sure sling a wicked fryin’ pan,” Nick muttered, his mouth well
filled with bacon sandwich. “Than which I have tasted no better. Snakes,
my back’s itchy!”
“Oh, I meant to tell you,” Teddy said casually. “There’s an ants’ nest on
the other side of the tree you’re leaning against, Nick.”
“An ants’ nest!” Nick leaped to his feet and shook himself violently. “So
that’s it! I thought I felt somethin’ crawlin’ around my lily white skin. Why
didn’t you tell me about it to-morrow morning, Teddy?”
Teddy grinned and went on with his eating. After a few violent moments
Nick seated himself again, but this time at a distance from the tree.
“Certainly is noisy,” Roy remarked. “Listen!”
“What for?” Nick leaned forward, straining his ears.
“Just wanted to see if I could find out which leg that grasshopper was
fiddling on. I can’t, though. Man, what a racket this silence makes!”
Those about him realized fully the sense of Roy’s remark. The silence
really did “make a racket!” It crowded in upon them, beating a weird tune
just over their heads. The night air pulsated with an intense stillness. It was
Nick who, with a single sentence, shattered the mystery of it.
 “I reckon,” he said calmly, “she’s goin’ to rain.”
Silent, squatting cross-legged a short distance from the fire, nodded in
agreement.
“Before twelve to-night,” he declared.
“Stars are still out,” Teddy objected. “Millions of ’em.”
Roy arose, walked away from the fire and into the darkness of the
woods. The camp had been pitched just on the edge of a small forest,
through which ran the brook.
“Yes,” he called back after a moment, “lightning in the west. Wind’s
blowing this way. We’ll get it, all right.”
“Then we might just as well tie them broncs up a little tighter,” Nick
advised. “What do you think, Silent—shall we move ’em toward the open,
or is it just as well to let ’em stay where they are?”
“Why move ’em?” Teddy broke in. “They’re all right there. But we can
fasten ’em up a little better. Yes, sir, it is going to rain!”
A vivid flash of lightning just then lit the heavens for a moment, and
those watching could see banks of clouds hastening to cover the stars. But
as yet the thunder could not be heard.
Nick and Roy went to see to the mules and horses, while Teddy and
Silent prepared the camp for the coming storm. The supplies were piled in
one heap and covered with tarpaulins. A few stakes were driven along the
edges of the stretched canvas, in case a strong wind should tear at the
covering. The tents had not been set up.
“And that’s fixed!” Teddy exclaimed, as he straightened. “Bet we don’t
get much sleep to-night.”
“It’ll be over by one, maybe,” Silent said. “Six hours’ sleep is plenty.
That is, unless you want to start before seven.”
“Seven’s all right,” Roy agreed. “We need some rest. Feel that hot wind?
It won’t be long now.”
A mutter of thunder rolled through the distant hills and the wind stopped
as though a fan had been shut off. The storm was approaching rapidly.
“Well, I’m not goin’ to sit up an’ wait for it,” Nick declared. “I’m no
welcoming committee, not me! Here’s where I go bye-bye.”
 He spread his blanket on the ground and prepared to roll himself up in it.
Just as he stretched out comfortably the first huge drops of rain plunged to
the earth.
“Nice, agreeable weather,” Nick grumbled, sitting up again. “Durin’ the
day it didn’t rain. Oh, no! Had to wait till everybody wants to go to sleep.
Just like a baby, keepin’ people awake all night. Where’s them raincoats?”
“Ought to be under the edge of the tents,” Teddy replied. “I’ll look.”
“Here they are,” he said a few moments later. “Grab ’em.”
The raincoats, actually rain capes, were the most useful articles that the
prospective miners carried with them. Not only would they serve for under-
blankets, when the ground was wet, but, tied by each of the four corners to
stakes set in the ground, made admirable bath-tubs, since they were of real
rubber. The bottom would rest on the ground, of course.
But it was for another purpose they were to be used now, and the
purpose for which they were originally intended—to keep out rain. The
storm was collecting its powers, ready to hurl them toward the little band of
adventurers gathered on the edge of the wood.
As the drops beat toward the earth, some of them struck the fire, hissing
loudly. In another moment the watery bombardment would be well under
way.
“Duck your heads,” Nick yelled, “ ’cause here she comes!”
“I should say!” ejaculated Teddy.
With a roar, the tempest pounced upon them. Tightly as the ponchos
were wrapped about their bodies, some rain penetrated them, and the boys
huddled beneath the branches of a tree.
“Better come out of that!” Silent shouted. “Better to get a little wet than
to have one of those babies catch a bolt of lightning an’ fall on yore neck!”
“Some sense to that,” Roy agreed. “Anyway, I’m about soaked now.”
He stood away from the tree and threw back his head, the rain beating
full in his face.
“Boy,” he gasped, “that’s wonderful! Some rain!”
“You just naturally crazy?” Teddy asked. “Wow! There goes a Big
Bertha!”
 A blinding flash was followed almost immediately by a crash of thunder.
The bolt had struck near by.
“Them mules tied tight?” Silent yelled.
“Yep. They can’t get away without pullin’ the trees with ’em!” Nick
shouted in answer. “Baby, listen at it!”
The wind swept through the woods fiercely, bending the branches
toward the ground. The lightning was continual, enabling the wayfarers to
see, a little distance from them, the animals crowding together for mutual
protection. The horses’ pride was forgotten in the stress of the moment, and
they fraternized with the mules.
“If Pop were here now, he’d call this a gentle shower, I suppose,” Teddy
remarked. “Thank goodness we brought these coats! We’d be drowned
without ’em. Even as it is, I’m no arid desert myself.”
The ground was gradually turning to a swamp beneath their feet, and
Nick groaned when he thought of his lost rest.
“Somethin’ terrible,” he muttered. “Me, I’m delicate! Need the best of
attention an’ regular sleep. My pop always told me—”
Roy, who was standing near him, seized him by the arm.
“Nick,” the boy said tensely, “do you hear something that has nothing to
do with the storm?”
The puncher listened.
“A crashin’ in the bushes,” he answered, in a puzzled tone. “Sounds like
a couple of horses threshin’ around. They ain’t our broncs, I know, ’cause
they ain’t in that direction. Maybe—”
A flash of lightning illuminated the scene and Roy saw his brother
standing perfectly still, his hand to his side.
“You hear it too?” Roy called.
“Yes, I sure do. Some animal, that’s sure. The noise is getting nearer.”
The crashing in the bushes did sound closer. It was a noise distinct from
the storm, another sort altogether.
“Stick together,” Silent advised suddenly. “Something’s comin’.”
Their eyes glued to that spot of blackness before them, the boys waited,
hands on revolver butts. Across the sky ripped a jagged stroke of lightning.
 By its light the watchers saw a strange sight. About fifteen feet from
them, framed in a network of dripping trees, were two horsemen. Their
steeds were prancing wildly about, savage with fright. On one of the
broncos was a man who sagged in the saddle, a man whose hat was gone
and whose arm was bandaged rudely to his side. He held weakly to the reins
with his other hand. His face was pallid, expressionless.
“Greyhound,” the other man shouted, “buck up! I can’t manage yore
pony! This nag of mine—”
He stopped. Another flash of lightning had revealed the group in front of
him, four men, each with a gun in his hand.
“Greyhound,” the man yelled again, “turn yore bronc! You gotta turn
him! Watch out!”
A horse neighed shrilly, weirdly in that stormy darkness. The crack of a
whip on flesh. A frantic crashing in the brush.
“Greyhound,” came faintly, “you gotta—”
Then the men were gone. The noise of their departure faded out. The
storm resumed its rightful rule over the forest.
The four campers stood as though changed to stone. Was it real, this they
had just seen and heard? Could they have been dreaming?
Silent it was who broke the spell. His voice came harshly, through set
teeth.
“I stood there,” he gritted out, “I stood there an’ watched ’em! Me, I
watched ’em get away! I knew ’em! I knew ’em in a minute!”
He took a deep breath and fought for self-control. When next he spoke
his voice was toneless, dead.
“I reckon,” he said slowly, “the storm’s about over. It didn’t last long.
Nope, not long.”
He walked toward the canvas that sheltered their supplies. As he bent
down to examine the covering, Teddy heard him mutter:
“Not long! Not half long enough!”
 CHAPTER XVI

His Night to Howl

If there was doubt in the listeners’ minds concerning the meaning of
Silent’s remark, there was also doubt in the mind of the one who had uttered
it. Actually, it meant nothing more than that the man was in the grip of a
strong emotion and his tongue seized upon the phrase it had last spoken.
For in those two horsemen, the two riders who had appeared like specters
out of the night, Silent Neville had recognized the slayers of his father and
brother.
Gradually the rain decreased, finally it ceased altogether. The fire was
relit. Blankets were hung near it to dry. The animals were looked to. A pot
of coffee was put on to boil.
Teddy walked to where Silent stood, staring into the flames. All around
them they could hear the drip, drip of the water from the trees. Every now
and again a distant roll of thunder, echoes of the departing storm, came to
their ears.
“Forget it, Silent,” Teddy said in a low voice. “It’s all over. You’ll get
your chance again.”
“Never like that, I won’t,” Silent responded dully, shaking his head.
“Right there they stood, an’ me with my hand on my gun. Right there.”
“It happened too fast,” Teddy declared. “None of us had time to do a
thing. Besides—” he stopped, then went on: “Funny, but I seem to have
seen those two waddies before. Roy!”
“Yea?”
“Those two look familiar to you?”
“Well, Teddy, they did look like the rascals who knocked over Jerry
Decker. But I only had a quick look. I can’t be sure.”
“That’s it! That’s who they were!” Teddy exclaimed excitedly. “Boy,
they have got something to answer for!” He felt Silent’s hand upon his arm.
“They’ll answer to me,” the puncher said tersely.
“Right,” Teddy said. “Think there’s any use in—”
 “Huntin’ them to-night? Not a chance. They’re miles from here already.
They sort of knew who I was, I think. But I’ll get ’em some day!”
The remainder of the night passed uneventfully. The boys got about five
hours of solid sleep and awoke with the sun streaming in their faces.
Breakfast was eaten, and they set out again for Nugget Camp. Their second
day was uneventful and the night passed quietly.
It was their intention to reach the mining camp by evening of the third
day, and by hard riding they did it. The last of daylight was fading in the
west when they got their first view of the place which was to be their
headquarters for the next month or so.
The story of the vicissitudes of Nugget Camp had interested the Manley
boys, since several times during the past fifteen or twenty years strikes had
been reported there and a new rush started, only to dwindle to nothing when
miners found the place practically empty of gold. The gold which they did
discover had to be worked hard for, not taken in nuggets. For the last five
years the name Nugget Camp had been almost a joke.
Then this new tale was circulated—of a man finding a huge fortune—
and immediately those about the countryside, forgetting the many times
“wolf” had been cried before, dropped the tools of their trade and headed
for the gold field. Shacks which had been deserted for years once again had
occupants. Tents sprang up like mushrooms. Two gambling houses were
already under way, and saloons, officially “speakeasies,” flourished. The
law had wisely let the camp govern itself, except for supervision over
crimes of violence, for it would need a garrison of soldiers constantly on
guard to make a refined city out of Nugget Camp.
This was the scene that confronted the four riders as, with their three
beasts of burden, they approached the gold field. It was evening, and
miners, some of them with their wives and children, sat on upturned
buckets or boxes before the doors of their tents. Lanterns were hung on
poles for street lights. At the far end of the camp were the gambling houses
and saloons, and from that quarter came sounds of revelry—the whining
strain of a violin, the heavier notes of an accordion. A miner carrying a bag
of food in his arms stumbled into a tent, evidently having made a visit to a
speakeasy on his way home. Dogs ran about, sniffing at the pile of cans
which were thrown behind some of the tents. The work of the day was over.
The miners were taking their rest.
 Teddy, who was slightly ahead of his companions, suddenly exclaimed:
“Say, isn’t that Gus Tripp in front of that tent?”
“Looks like him,” Roy responded. “Hey, Gus!”
The man turned his head, then sprang to his feet.
“Teddy! An’ Roy! Hey, Nick! Well, for Pete’s sake!” He ran over and
shook hands heartily with the new arrivals, expressing his pleasure at
meeting Silent. “Say,” he went on eagerly, “when’d you get in? Just now,
hey? How’s everybody back home?”
“O. K.,” Roy answered. “We got that bunch of beeves off to Chicago,
and things are sort of quiet now. That’s how come you see us here.”
“I’m sure glad you came,” the puncher declared heartily. “You know,
Roy, I felt mean leavin’ the ranch that-a-way. But snakes, I had to! If I let a
chance like this slip by—”
“I know,” Roy laughed. “Dad understood. Said he didn’t blame you a bit.
Said he’d do the same thing himself if he could. How you making out?”
“Find any big nuggets?” Nick broke in eagerly. “Real big ones?”
“Naw,” Gus responded. “Nary a nugget. Been gettin’ a fair amount of
dust, though, by pannin’. Only that’s not what I came out here for.”
“It’s slow, but sure,” Silent said quietly. “The other is just luck.”
“An’ that’s just what I’m lookin’ for,” Gus declared. “Lady Luck! She
can soak her socks in my coffee any time a-tall. Say, where you guys stayin’
to-night?”
“We’ve got to locate some place,” Teddy answered. “How about near
you?”
“Fine! That spot big enough?” He pointed to a bare place at the side of
his tent. It was amply large enough to accommodate the two tents.
“Fine,” Teddy asserted. “What do you say, Roy?”
“Suits me. Let’s get the mules unloaded.”
By the light of lanterns, the packs were removed, the tents spread and
raised. Teddy and Roy had one, Silent and Nick the other. The mules were
outspanned some distance from the street, and the horses were tied, after
feeding and watering them, nearer the tents.
“Jim Casey an’ Nat Raymond got a tent over on the other side,” Gus told
them when they had finished their labors. “They’ll be glad to hear you
came. Say, ain’t you fellows hungry?”
“Hungry!” Nick almost shouted. “I could eat a brass doorknob—in fact,
two brass doorknobs. Let’s get goin’.”
Since the new arrivals had not yet set up cooking stoves, Gus lent them
his, and during the preparation and eating of the meal they told Gus of their
adventure of the first night.
“One man shot, you say?” the puncher asked interestedly. “Now, that’s
queer. Nat told me a man was shot a couple of days ago up at Hagerman’s
—that’s one of our beauty spots, where you can get a drink of poison by
askin’ for liquor. He pulled somethin’ funny.”
“Well, we can’t say whether this bird was shot or not,” Nick declared.
“He was hurt some way, though. Maybe he got tossed off his bronc.”
“What sort of place is this, Gus?” Teddy asked. “I mean shall we tote
these things”—he motioned to the gun at his side—“or not?”
“Well, it’s the only kind of life insurance we got,” Gus drawled. “I’d sort
of hang on to ’em, if I was you. An’ the first thing in the mornin’ you
boys’d better stake yore claims. There’s more people comin’ in here every
day. Tell you, the best place, to my notion, is about one hundred an’ ten
above discovery. That’s a quarter of a mile from here. Not many fellers
locate near there, but I got a hunch it’s due for a strike, even if it is far up.”
“We’ll try it,” Teddy agreed. “Have you a claim near there?”
“Yep. But that ain’t no proof there’s gold there, ’cause I haven’t made
out so well yet. But you wait. I tell you I got a hunch, boys.”
The meal was concluded, and Teddy and Roy decided to take a walk
around Nugget Camp, to get their bearings. Silent and Nick concentrated on
a game of double solitaire.
“Well, we’re here,” Teddy remarked, as the two strode down the street.
From the end of the street, where the gaming houses were located, came
a wild shout.
“Somebody’s out for a good time. You’d think the men would leave their
wives and children at home with that stuff going on.” Roy motioned to a
tent outside of which sat a man, a woman, and two young girls. “But I
suppose a lot of them pulled up stakes and hit out for good, with no
intentions of returning. I’ll bet a lot of them will ride on within two weeks,
broke.”
 Teddy nodded. “That’s the luck of the game. Say, wouldn’t it be great if
we could strike it good and rich and go home with a couple of thousand
apiece? Baby! I’d like to be able to hand a bag of nuggets to dad and say:
‘See what your dutiful sons brought to you from afar. Here is ten thousand;
take it and buy a race-horse.’ ”
“You know what dad would say to that,” Roy laughed. “He’d ask you
who lent it to you. Anyhow, it’s nice to think about. Snakes! what is this, a
free-for-all?”
They were opposite a large wooden shack, well lit, from which came
excited cries. Suddenly a man burst through the door.
“Me, I am a bear, an’ it’s my night to howl!” he roared. “Who deposed
the Russian Czar? Me, I done it! Who won the war? Me, again! And who is
goin’ to—goin’ to—” he hesitated and took a deep breath. “I forget just
what, but I’m goin’ to do it,” he muttered. “Right now, too!”
He turned, and saw Teddy and Roy. Slowly he pushed his hat back on his
head, and by the light of a lantern which hung from a near-by pole the boys
could see a livid scar running the length of his forehead.
“Ah, the Duke of York an’ his maid in waitin’,” he called ironically,
bowing low. “Ladies, I greet you! Welcome to Buckingham Palace. What
ho, the guard! Where’s the Lord Mayor? Where’s that Lord Mayor? He’s
never around when I want him! I’ll have to do somethin’ about that. I’ll
dock his pay, that’s what I’ll do! Yes, sir! Well, then I’m the welcomin’
committee. An’ here’s the way we welcome guests!”
Suddenly, without a word of warning, he drew his revolver and shot into
the ground at Teddy’s feet!
 CHAPTER XVII

The Lucky Shot

The attack was so absolutely unprovoked, and so sudden was it, that
Teddy and Roy stood there while the bullets dug up the earth.
“Dance!” the man roared. “Step out, boys, afore I raise my sights on this
here weapon! Dance! You hear the music? Well, don’t let it go to waste!”
At the sound of the revolver, men who had been making merry inside
rushed from the hall. They saw the gleam of the gun and saw also that
neither Teddy nor Roy was obeying the shouted commands to “dance!”
“Maryland, what do you think you’re doin’?” some one called.
“I’m givin’ myself a private show,” was the answer. “Strictly private!”
He had shot four times and had two bullets left in the gun. The four shots
had followed so quickly on one another that the sound seemed continuous.
Then it was that Roy awoke. Slowly, with no attempt at haste, he drew
his own revolver. Those watching from the steps of the dance hall saw him
level it carefully.
“You,” he said quietly, “drop that gun!”
“Huh?” Maryland, to give him the title which had just been applied,
stared at the boy. Was this kid, this half-baked kid, trying to face him down?
Him, the terror of the mining camp?
“You heard me,” Roy went on, still in that even-toned voice. “I said drop
the gun!”
“I’ll drop nothin’!” Rage came into Maryland’s face. “You fool kid,
think you can get away with that? I’ll—” he jerked the revolver up. “By
golly, I’ll—”
Once, only once, did Roy’s revolver speak. But Maryland’s weapon flew
from his hand as though it had been pulled with a cord. One minute there
stood a bullying braggart of a man whose gun was his champion; the next
moment in his place was a frightened dazed wretch, his face white, rubbing
the hand from which Roy had shot the revolver.
“I’ll admit,” Roy declared calmly, “that that was a lucky shot. I aimed at
your wrist.”