There was a period of silence, broken only by the rattling of Mary Fortune's machine, and then they began again.
"Very well," said Stoddard, "this seems satisfactory. Now what about this L. W. Lockhart? In our meeting this morning he showed such a contemptible weakness that—now Jepson, that was very careless of you! Why didn't you find out before that fiasco how Miss Fortune intended to vote? It must have been perfectly evident to her, from the way Mr. Lockhart talked, that he had been—well, over-persuaded, to say the least. It was very awkward, and if I hadn't rushed it she might have reconsidered her vote. But never mind that—I suppose you did your best—now who is to re-locate this claim?"
"Well, that's the question," began Jepson. "There's a man here named Bray, who used to keep a saloon—"
"No, no!" broke in Stoddard, "no disreputable characters! Now, Jepson, this is up to you! You're the only man we can trust in an extremity——"
"Positively—no!" exclaimed Jepson firmly. "I absolutely refuse to touch it. I'll arrange the preliminaries, but after it's started you must look to your attorneys for the rest."
"Oh, nonsense!" cried Stoddard, "isn't it perfectly legal? Won't the claim be open to location? Well, then, why this sudden resort to evasion and hairsplitting, and all over a mere detail?"
"I have told you before," answered Jepson impatiently, "that it's against the ethics of my profession. I am a mining engineer and if you want this claim jumped——"
"Oh, yes, yes! We won't argue the matter! Who is this Mr. Bray?"
"He's a man with nerve—about the only one in the country that will stand up to Rimrock Jones. It seems that Jones won his saloon away from him and gave it to one of his friends. Some gambling feud they've had on for years, but now Mr. Bray is broke. I haven't sounded him, but for a thousand dollars——"
"Five hundred!"