It seemed that he expected Harlan to betray a lust for the gold he had mentioned; and he was ready to close his lips and to die with his secret. And when he saw that apparently Harlan was unmoved, that he betrayed, seemingly, not the slightest interest, that even his eyelids did not flicker at his words, nor his face change color—Morgan drew a tremulous sigh.
“You’ve got me guessin’,” he confessed weakly. “I don’t know whether you’re a devil or a saint.”
“I ain’t claimin’ nothin’,” said Harlan. “An’ I ain’t carin’ a damn about your gold. I’d a heap rather you wouldn’t mention it. More than one man has busted his character chasin’ that rainbow.”
“You ain’t interested?” demanded Morgan.
“Not none.”
Morgan’s eyes glowed with an eager light. For now that Harlan betrayed lack of interest, Morgan was convinced—almost—that the man’s reputation for committing evil deeds had been exaggerated.
“You’ve got to be interested,” he declared, lifting himself on his good arm and leaning toward Harlan. “It ain’t the gold that is botherin’ me so much, anyway—it’s my daughter.
“It’s all my own fault, too,” he went on when he saw Harlan’s eyes quicken. “I’ve felt all along that somethin’ was wrong, but I didn’t have sense enough to look into it. An’ now, trustin’ folks so much, an’ not payin’ strict attention to what was goin’ on around me, I’ve got to the point where I’ve got to put everything into the hands of a man I never saw before—an outlaw.”
“There ain’t nobody crowdin’ you to put anything into his hands,” sneered Harlan. “I ain’t a heap anxious to go around buttin’ into trouble for you. Keep your yap shut, an’ die like a man!”
Morgan laughed, almost triumphantly. “I’ll do my dyin’ like a man, all right—don’t be afraid of that. You want to hear what I’ve got to tell you?”