In the end Blandy agreed to an immediate trip to the mine.
But next morning it was he who set to work preparing for the journey. Patton made off down the street almost immediately after breakfast, and disappeared into one of the half-dozen drinking-places of the town. When he did not return at noontime, Blandy consulted Polly.
“Don’t you think I’d better go find him?” he asked. “You see he might take a glass or two and git to blabbin’.”
Patton was found at Rourke’s. Outside the resort, Blandy turned upon him. “Say! You’re up to your old game, ain’t you, Patton?” he demanded curtly.
Patton tried to laugh the matter off. “Oh, you don’t understand,” he declared confidentially. He started homeward beside the other man.
The leather of Blandy’s face was pale. Out of the paleness burned his wrathful eyes. “Don’t try to soft-soap me,” he went on. “I know now where that remittance of your’n goes. But you got to cut it out! I ain’t a-helpin’ you to a fortune so’s you can hurt Polly by slatherin’ money on some other woman.”
Patton gave a loud laugh. “Don’t think I’m a fool,” he answered. As they entered the front room of the restaurant, he gave Blandy a look of hate. “You aren’t giving me a claim because you like me. You’re doing it on Polly’s account.”
“That’s right,” declared Blandy. “What in thunderation is there about you that’d make any man hand you over half a million?”
“So! You admit it! Oh, I’m on to your game! This is some more of your tattle. You want to make trouble between me and my wife!”
Blandy took a long step forward. “That’s a lie,” he said. “It’s just what I don’t aim to do. You and me had a talk on this question the night you got married. Have you forgot that? Wal, when you cash in on the claim, I’m a-goin’ to see that you cut that friend——”