le mining claim. The telephone message from Mr. Bradlaugh, therefore, was quite disturbing.
"Ah, ha!" exclaimed Ballard, when Merriwell reported the professor missing from Gold Hill, "so you think there's nothing in that dream of mine, eh? This news from Gold Hill shows that it amounts to something."
"What the mischief do you think is going on, Chip?" asked Clancy.
"I'm up in the air and haven't an idea," replied Frank.
"Mr. Bradlaugh asked me to come over to his office in town for a conference."
"We'll have to hit the golden trail," declared Ballard, "and run it out to a finish. We've got to be mighty quick about it, too, or there's no telling what will happen to the old prof."
"Show us your nuggets as big as washtubs, Pink," grinned Clancy, "and I'm willing to begin to sprint."
"The dream was only a warning. It didn't suggest what we were to do, or how we're to go about it, but just gives us a hunch that Borrodaile needs help."
"That's the trouble with
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