“Six months gone they found it,” he continued dully, “in the Summer time. They came in for provisions—for provisions for all Winter. A deposit for two men to work, they said. My brother would not even tell me where they found it. The gold had got into his brain. It was his life’s blood to him. We only knew that it was somewhere up yonder.”
He embraced the whole North with a despairing sweep of his long arms and continued:
“Then they went back, five months, two weeks gone, to dig out the gold, the two of them, my brother, James, and the foul Welsh thief, Shanty Moir. For foul he has proven. In three months my brother had promised he would be back to say all was well with him. We have had no word, no word in these many months.
“But Shanty Moir we have heard of. Aye, we have heard of him. At Fifty Mile, and at Dumont’s Camp he had been, throwing dust and nuggets across the bars and to the painted women, boasting he is king of the richest deposit in the North, and offering to kill any man who offers to follow his trail to his holdings. Aye, that we have heard. And that must mean only one thing—the cut-throat Moir has done my brother to death and is flourishing on the gold that drew James MacGregor to his doom.
“Well,” he went on harshly, “what men have found others can find. We have sent word broadcast that we will find Shanty Moir and his holdings, and that I will have an accounting with him, aye, an accounting that will leave but one of us above ground, if it takes me the rest of my life.”
“And mine,” interjected the girl hotly. “Shanty Moir is mine, and I take toll for my father’s life. It’s no matter what comes to me, if I can bring justice to Shanty Moir for what he has done to my father. My hand—my own hand will take toll when we run the dog to earth.”
In his bunk Reivers laughed scornfully.
“I’ve a good notion to go hunting this Moir and bring him to you just to see if you could make those words good,” said he. “With your own hand, eh? You’d fail, of course, at the last moment, being a woman, but it would almost be worth while getting this Moir for you to see what you’d do. Yes, it would be an interesting experiment.”
It was the girl’s turn to laugh now, her laughter mocking his.
“‘Twould be interesting to see what you would do did you stand face to face with Shanty Moir,” she sneered. “Yes, ’twould be an interesting experiment—to see how you’d crawl. For this can be said of the villain, Shanty Moir, that he does not run from men to get help from women. You bring Shanty Moir in! How would you do it—with your mouth?”