Hopwood followed him obediently into the cook shack and looked him squarely in the eye. “He also told me that I was to keep in touch with you while he was away and let you know what Foster Wait was doing.”
“He did, did he?” Mac grunted, as he looked him over suspiciously from head to foot. “Where has he gone?”
Hopwood looked around and lowered his voice. “He went over the mountain to see the United States marshal.”
Mac grunted his satisfaction but his suspicion was not completely allayed. “Who the deuce are you?” he asked again. “You look like one of these pesky mountaineers to me.”
“I am,” Hopwood replied bluntly, “but I am a friend of Mr. Burton’s and I don’t like Foster Wait as well as you do. That ought to be enough to satisfy you.”
“Well,” Mac said grudgingly, “if you are a liar you are a mighty slick one. I’ll take a chance on you, anyway. What’s that man Wait up to now?”
“He was in the house when I came by there a while ago. He’s not likely to come out again to-night, and I’ll watch him in the morning and let you know if he’s up to anything.”
“Very well,” Mac replied. “I’ll be watching for you, and—for him,” he added grimly.
Hopwood started for the door. “Don’t you want a handout?” Mac called after him hospitably.
As Hopwood had not had anything to eat since morning, he gladly accepted the invitation. While he was eating Mac plied him with all kinds of questions about Foster Wait. It was evident that it would be a bad day for Foster if he ever fell into Mac’s hands.