"Got to—or quit," said Sandy. "That bunch of jumpers he got together'll spill the beans unless he makes some play. It's plumb evident he wants these partickler claims. I don't believe he's hirin' men just to make us peevish. 'Sides, he didn't know fo' sure we were comin'. Might have figgered we'd trail the news of the rush, but I'll bet a sack of Durham against a pinch o' dirt that he's fairly sure that old man Patrick Casey picked him some first-class locations. We got one card that'll upset him considerable, my bein' the legal guardeen of Molly."
"A heap he cares fo' legal or not legal," said Sam.
"That's jest what he will do, now he ain't standin' in with the crowd that hands out the law, Sam. He might try to make it a show-down right here an' drive us out of the camp or leave us tucked away stiff in some prospect hole. But there's a lot of decent material drifted in an' it w'udn't be hard to beat him to that play an' organize a camp committee fo' the regulation of law an' order till such time as the camp proves itself an' is established. Once big capital gits stahted in here the law'll be workin' right along hand in hand with the development. Let's take a pasear an' look at Casey's workings."
Patrick Casey had run in a tunnel from the face of his discovery. Weathered porphyry float showed on the dump whose size suggested greater depth to the tunnel than they had expected. Its mouth had been closed by timbers fitting closely into the frame of the horizontal shaft, forming, not so much a door, as a barricade, that had been firmly spiked to heavy timbers. This had been recently dismantled and then replaced, as recent marks on the weathered lumber showed. Sandy looked at these places closely, frowning as he gave his verdict.
"Some one monkeyin' with this inside of the last month," he announced. "The nails ain't rusted like the old ones an' the chips are fresh. Like as not it was that bunch of easterners. They'd figger the camp was abandoned an' consider themselves justified as philanthropists into bu'stin' open anything that looked good—like this tunnel. A man w'udn't go to the trouble of timberin' up if he didn't think he had somethin' inside that was goin' to turn up high cahd some day. 'Course the capitalist, if he found somethin' that looked good, 'ud hunt up the owner in the registry an' make him an offer. But it w'udn't be a half interest in the mine. He'd say he was thinkin' of developin' half a mile away an', if he bought cheap enough, he might make an offer. Yes, sir," Sandy went on, warming to his own theory, "it w'udn't surprise me if this warn't the mine they sampled which Plimsoll finds out is the real stuff an' clamps on."
"Well," said Mormon, "we'll have a chance to ask him in a minute. He's comin' up with that crowd of his rangin' erlong an' their ha'r liftin'. Thar's that ungrateful skunk I chucked the boots at. Plim don't look over an' above pleased the way things are breakin'. Looks as amiable as a timber wolf with his tail in a b'ar trap."
The three partners met the jumpers, now headed by Plimsoll, on the border of the claims. The gambler's face was livid. He had boasted and lashed himself into a bullying confidence that he knew was inadequate to meet the situation he could not avoid. Hatred of the men who had balked him more than once served him better.
"You four-flushers get off this ground," he blustered. "You're claiming to represent Molly Casey's rights after you've kidnaped the girl and sent her out of the state. It won't get you anywhere or anything. I've got a half interest in these claims and I've plenty of witnesses to prove it."
"I don't believe yore witnesses are half as vallyble as they might have been before politics shifted in Herefo'd County," said Sandy. "You ain't got a written contract an' it w'udn't do you a mite of good if you had, fur as I'm concerned. Because I've been duly an' legally app'inted guardeen to Casey's daughter Molly an' I'm here to represent her interests, likewise mine. I've got my guardianship papers right with me."
"A hell of a lot of good they'll do you in this camp," sneered Plimsoll. "Representin' her interests. I'll say you are, an' your own along with 'em." A laugh from his followers heartened him. "If the camp ever hears the yarn of your running off with the girl and now, with her tucked away, coming back to clean up, I've a notion they'd show you four-flushers where you've sat in to the wrong game. Why...."