Thirlwell, burning with indignation, found it hard to keep still. It was a cunning plot, because a few days' delay might enable Stormont to re-stake the ground and file his record first. If this were done, Agatha would have to bear the disadvantage of challenging his claim and, if the law expenses were heavy, might be forced to compromise. Still, he controlled his rage.
"The thing's not as easy as it looks," Drummond replied. "Thirlwell's not a fool. If you, want me to put it over, you'll have to come up."
"A good job in our office and six hundred dollars: three hundred now. If Thirlwell finds out and gets after you, come along to my camp."
"Where is your camp?"
"Behind some rocks, about two miles up the lake. Follow the creek and you'll come to a log that has fallen across."
"Very well; I'll take the money."
Stormont pulled out his wallet, and then Thirlwell came near to betraying himself, because the dramatic surprise was almost too much for his self-control. Drummond snatched the bills from the other's hand and laughed, a savage, scornful laugh.
"You thieving hog; you blasted fool!" he cried.
"What d'you mean?" Stormont shouted, springing to his feet.
"Did you think you could play me for a sucker twice?" Drummond rejoined. "Three hundred dollars, for my claim on the lode? That's what it comes to, and I reckon that's all I'd get!" He flung out his hand, scattering the crumpled bills. "There's your dirty money. I've got you corralled!"