“No! No, Denver!” she broke in very earnestly, “I don’t want you to do that again. I heard last night that Dave said he would get you–and if he did, why then I’d be to blame. You’d be doing it for me, and if one of those men killed you–well, it would be just the same as me.”
“Nope!” denied Denver, “there was no figure of speech about that. It said: ‘at the hands of your dearest friend.’ These jumpers ain’t my friends and never was–come on, let’s take a chance. I’ll run ’em off the claims if your father will give you half of ’em, and then you can turn around and sell out for cash and go back to New York like a queen. You stand off the tenors and I’ll stand off the jumpers; and then, perhaps–but we won’t talk about that now. Come on, will you shake hands on the deal?”
She looked at him questioningly, his powerful hand reached out to help her, the old, boyish laughter in his eyes, and then she smiled back as bravely.
“All right,” she said, “but you’ll have to be careful–because now I’m your dearest friend.”
“I’m game,” he cried, “and you don’t have to kiss me either. But if some Dago tenor─”
“No,” she promised looking up at him wistfully. “I’ll–I’ll save the kiss for you.”
180CHAPTER XXI
BROKE AGAIN
The industry of four jumpers, digging in like gophers on the best of Bunker Hill’s claims, was brought to an abrupt termination by the appearance of one man with a gun. He came on unconcernedly, Dave’s six-shooter at his hip and the strength of a lion in his stride; and the first of the gun-men, after looking him over, jumped out of his hole and made off. Denver tore down his notice and posted the old one, with a copy of his original affidavit that the annual work had been done; and when he toiled up to the remaining three claims the jumpers had fled before him. They knew him all too well, and the gun at his hip; and they counted it no disgrace to give way before the man who had conquered Dave Chatwourth with rocks. So Denver changed the notices and came back laughing and Bunker Hill made over the claims.
“Denver,” he said clasping him warmly by the hand, “I swow, you’re the best danged friend I’ve got. For the last time, now, will you come to dinner?”