Read Online Barkerville Gold by Dayle Gaetz - Free Book Online Page B

all did, breaking the tension. Then Katie asked, “But why did you think we knew about that man? Who is he? I didn’t even see him.”
    â€œIt was that old prospector guy with the white beard.”
    â€œProspector Man?” Rusty said. “That’s impossible. We saw him go up the trail ahead of us. Hey! He must have hid in the bushes, just like we did, and watched us go by. He’s following us!”
    â€œIf he is,” Sheila pointed out, “he isn’t doing a very good job.”
    â€œOne thing’s for sure,” Katie said, “if we waste any more time we’ll never catch up to him, and we really need to find out what he’s up to, so let’s go!”
    Rusty and Sheila watched Katie’s swiftly retreating back. Her bright red T-shirt was the last thing to disappear through the trees.
    Rusty knew Sheila was still unhappy, in spite of what she said, but he could not believe that Sheila, of all people, felt left out. Why should she? If anyone felt left out, it should be him. And he did sometimes. He liked Sheila. Really. But she was Katie’s friend, not his. So what was he supposed to do now? How could he make her feel welcome?
    â€œPlease, Sheila, come with us? I’m really gonna need your help with Katie.” Okay, maybe that didn’t quite do the trick. “I mean—I really like you, Sheila.”
    Oh, man! That didn’t sound right either. Rusty felt his face turn bright red. Sheila gave him an odd look, as if she weren’t quite sure what to think.
    â€œThat is…I mean…” Rusty stammered.
    To his relief, Sheila grinned and lightly punched his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Rusty, I know what you’re trying to say. Come on, we’d better catch up with Katie.”
    Around every bend, Rusty expected to see Katie just ahead of them, but the path continued on and on forever, climbing, turning, twisting this way and that, until he was once again struggling to pull enough oxygen into his lungs.
    Where was Katie? Puff…puff…gasp… How did she get so far ahead? Gasp… puff…puff… His feet felt heavy, his legs ached. “Sheila!” he breathed. “I need a rest!” But she didn’t hear him.
    Rusty dragged himself around the next bend and saw Sheila, her back to him, head twisted to one side.
    â€œWhat?” he whispered.
    â€œI heard something.”
    He listened. What he heard was the sound of air wheezing into his lungs. If Sheila heard something else, he really didn’t care right now. He was happy enough simply to stand still.
    Sheila charged into the bushes.
    Rusty groaned and followed her up a steep, almost overgrown path that was rocky underfoot and slippery with moss kept damp by a trickle of water that snaked around the rocks. All he could see of Sheila was a patch of blue T-shirt through the foliage. She stopped again. “Listen!”
    Rusty heard a faint sound, but whether it was a human voice or the whisper of water or even the sigh of wind in the trees above his head, he could not determine. Then Sheila pointed at something ahead of them, almost hidden in the trees. A patch of red. A T-shirt. Katie.
    Crouched low, she motioned at them, but when they came up beside her, Katie’s eyes were fixed on something farther ahead. About ten meters away, partially hidden by thick undergrowth, a figure stood absolutely still. Although he had not seen the man who passed them on the trail, Rusty knew instantly this was him. He was dressed in prospector’s clothing, complete with red-and-black-checked shirt, but his head was bare. His back to them, he held his wide-brimmed hat at his side.
    Prospector Man faced the trunk of a tree that divided in two to form a convenient V just above shoulder height. He peered through this opening at something in front of him.
    The crack of a stick breaking underfoot was followed by a rustling sound, as if a large animal was moving