The squatters glanced at each other. The 'Piker' laughed derisively.
"In love with his darter, ain't ye?"
"I am--and proud of it!"
"Them your guns?" The spokesman addressed Ransom, indicating the two rifles.
"One of 'em is mine; t'other belongs to Smoky."
The 'Piker' crossed the room, examined the rifles, opened each, and peered down the barrels. He glanced at the other squatters, and said laconically--
"Quite clean--as might be expected."
Ransom betrayed his surprise very slightly. He had just remembered that he had left an empty cartridge in his rifle, and that it was not clean.
The 'Piker' turned to him again.
"You claim that you know nothing o' this job?"