Brodie, though his rifle had not swerved, was listening.
"No, not hiding in the dark corners," he said ponderously. "Not Mark King, rot him…. Ben Gaynor's girl, you say? Then we're red hot on the right trail, boys! You know what her and King would be after!"
Gratton's stunned brain began to function wildly.
"The gold is here, Brodie!" he cried out wildly. "King had got to it before us, but I've found it. I was coming back to tell you——"
Brodie had small liking for a coward and now his bull's voice cut
Gratton's chatter short.
"No solid mountain of gold is going to save your hide——"
Benny began to jig up and down in a frenzy of excitement.
"Hold your hand, Brodie, you big fool," he shouted. He even jumped to Brodie's side and caught the rifle-barrel, shoving it downward. "If he does know where it is, give him a show to lead us to it. Ain't you got any sense? Before King gets back. If you popped him off now, how would we know where to look?"
Brodie snarled at Benny and whipped the rifle clear of the nervous clutch. But he understood what Benny had in mind and saw wisdom in obeying the command to hold his hand. His gross, heavy-muscled face, half in light, half in darkness, showed a look of hesitation. Gratton began a rapid, vehement talking, explaining, arguing, pleading; he had not meant to steal the food; he could lead them to the gold; he wanted none of it; all that he asked was to be allowed to live——
"Shut up!" Brodie cried again disgustedly. "You ain't dead yet, are you? So's you keep your lying face closed I'll give you one show. Step lively; where is it?"