“Well, if we don’t find him, we’ll have a nice little walk. And it’s a fine old night for a walk, Pink.”
“If I’d known you’re as wide-awake as all that, Red,” grumbled Pink, “I’d have had another game out of you.”
“You would—not. If we don’t stir up a little excitement during this stroll of ours, so I can get my mind off checkers, I’ll be beating you in my sleep. Come on, if you’re ready.”
They descended the stairs, passed through the office, and out at the front of the hotel. Then, turning south, they traversed the length of the main street.
Ophir was an orderly little place. A great many Easterners had come to the town, in the employ of the syndicate that operated the mine, and they exerted an influence in the settlement that was all on the side of law and order.
The street was quiet, and almost deserted. At the end of it, Clancy and Ballard found themselves in the trail that led directly to the Ophir “workings.” The road stretched southward in a clear, whitish streak against its background of dusky desert.
“Chip has got me going in this Lenning affair,” confessed Ballard, as they walked leisurely along the trail.
“Same here, Pink,” said Clancy. “When Chip takes the bit in his teeth you might as well stand back and let him go.”
“He never does that unless he’s mighty sure he’s on the right track.”
“Sure not, but one of these days he’s liable to run full-tilt over the wrong course. Between you and me, Pink, I believe that’s what he’s doing now. Lenning had a lot of nerve to refer Mr. Bradlaugh to Chip.”