"Cork, are you quite sure that this bunch is the gang Wade's after?
Supposing they turn out to be a fishing party or something?"
"Fishin' party me neck!" scoffed McCorquodale. "With all them cases o' the real McKay?"
"Fishing is often a thirsty business for more than the fish. Anyway, you don't know for sure that it's booze——"
"Don't, eh? They starts in on it las' night an' some of 'em was lit up like a corner saloon, I tell you. Didn't I see 'em an' didn't I hear 'em? Great snakes! they kep' me awake with their shouts an' singin' las' night fer hours an' I'm campin' a good loud holler away from their hangout at that. I crep' down clost to find out what they was celebratin' an' I hears 'em gabbin', see. The gang aint all there yet. They're waitin' fer the Main Squeeze—this here Red McIvor I was tellin' you about. I hears 'em mention his name, see, an' besides Weiler's there an'——"
"You win," conceded Phil. "Whisky traders, eh? Heading in to peddle the stuff to the Indians and around the camps." He smoked thoughtfully.
"If they keeps on lappin' it up the way they's doin' las' night they aint goin' to do much tradin' in anythin' but headaches. Say, what about this here bundle o' phoney hid in a hollow stump? Wade was tellin' me you's up here lookin' after it. Cranston was wonderin' if Weiler'd got a line on it an' mebbe that had somethin' to do with the gang comin' together in this neighborhood. Did you find it?"
"No, it was gone. I'm pretty certain that Podmore was after it and got here ahead of everybody. Thorlakson hasn't noticed anybody hanging around. It dosn't matter. Did Mr. Wade say anything to you about young Stiles having disappeared? Miss Lawson is greatly worried over the last part of the Chief's message." He passed it across as he spoke.
McCorquodale grinned.
"Leave it to me, 'bo. Jimmy Stiles is the young gaffer I's trailin' that afternoon with that tan satchel from the Alderson Construction Company's office. No, the Chief didn't say anythin' to me 'bout him; but I knows where he is."
"You do?"