Bruce turned to him:
“No, don’t go. I’ve just come from Ore City and I may be able to tell your friend something that he wants to know. Where is your placer ground, Sprudell?”
Sprudell sat down in his office chair, toying with a desk-fixture, while Bruce shoved both hands in his trousers’ pockets and waited for him to speak.
“Burt,” he said finally, “I regret this unpleasantness, but the fact is you did not comply with the law—you have never recorded and you are located out.”
“So you’ve taken advantage of the information with which I trusted you to jump my ground?” Bruce’s eyes blazed into Sprudell’s.
“The heirs could not be found, you were given up for dead, and in any event I’ve not exceeded my rights.”
“You have no rights upon that ground!” Bruce answered hotly, “My locations were properly made in ‘Slim’s’ name and my own. The sampling and the cabin and the tunnel count for assessment work. I had not abandoned the claim.”
“Nevertheless, my engineer informs me——”
“Your engineer?” A light dawned.
“Wilburt Dill—pity you did not meet him, a bright young chap—”