"I've noted that," observed Kelly.
"I don't want you to help me if you have anything better to do," pursued Burke. "I shall get what I've come for in any case."
"Oh, don't you worry yourself! I'm on," responded Kelly, with his winning, Irish smile. "When do you want to catch your hare? Tonight?"
"Yes; to-night," said Burke soberly. "I'll come down with you to
Hoffstein's, and if you can get him out, I'll do the rest."
"Hurrah!" crowed Kelly softly, lifting his glass. "Here's luck to the venture!"
But though Burke drank with him, his face did not relax.
A little later they left the hotel together. A strong wind was still blowing, sprinkling the dust of the desert everywhere. They pushed their way against it, striding with heads down through the swirling darkness of the night.
Hoffstein's bar was in a low quarter of the town and close to the mine-workings. A place of hideous desolation at all times, the whirling sandstorm made of it almost an inferno. They scarcely spoke as they went along, grimly enduring the sand-fiend that stung and blinded but could not bar their progress.
As they came within sight of Hoffstein's tavern, they encountered groups of men coming away, but no one was disposed to loiter on that night of turmoil; no one accosted them as they approached. The place was built of corrugated iron, and they heard the sand whipping against it as they drew near. Kelly paused within a few yards of the entrance. The door was open and the lights of the bar flared forth into the darkness.
"You stop here!" bawled Kelly. "I'll go in and investigate."