“I don’t believe that, Mr. Leach,” Charmian declared, and set her red lips tightly after the words.
Leach shrugged. “Can’t help that, Mrs. Reemy,” he told her in a hurt tone. “But it’s the truth. I don’t want him in camp with me when I’m asleep. He might sneak up and cut my throat. The one thing on earth that I fear is a crazy man.”
Andy and Dr. Shonto had released their captives, and now they silently sat down on the ground and awaited the outcome of the dialogue between Charmian and the opal miners. This was her adventure, and they did not wish to interfere so long as their opinions were not asked for.
“What did he mean about the cloud?” she asked.
“Oh, that,” said Morley, and laughed shortly. “He is employed by the weather bureau to record the rainfall and snowfall in the section of the mountains where he lives. He gets seven or seven and a half a month—I forget just how much—for being on hand to read his rain gauge and sending in his reports. It’s the most ridiculous thing you ever heard of, Mrs. Reemy. Henry will be away ’tending to his traps, and up comes a little cloud about the size of his ear. Then he drops everything and races home to his rain gauge, over which he’ll squat until the cloud floats out of his section of the mountains. And when it does rain or snow he chases with his report all the way to Diamond H Ranch and sends it in to the weather bureau. And maybe while he’s making the trip another cloud will show up. Then he’s between the devil and the deep blue sea, for his report ought to go in at once, while at the same time more rain is threatening on his station. All that for not over seven and a half a month. Can you beat it! What do you think of him now? Is he crazy? And the kick he gets out of that job would make a horse laugh. He’s always calling himself a goverment official; and when his check doesn’t arrive promptly he writes a complaint to the President. Oh, Henry’s a scream, all right!”
“He may be all of that,” Charmian spoke thoughtfully, “but that’s no excuse for mistreating him.”
“Why, Mrs. Reemy—”
“I don’t believe that I care to hear any defence of what you two men did to-night,” she interrupted crisply. “Please let’s drop the subject. I’m tired; I’m going to bed. Good night, everybody.”
She walked away toward her tent, but paused suddenly, turned, and hurled back a parting shot.
“And I shall have a talk with Shirttail Henry before going any further into the buying of your opal claims.”