"Between them walked a little, rat-faced man. The man was Mr. Squigg."
"Boys," he said, "Carlson is dead. He died alone—way out yondeh in the Lillimuit. He died huntin' fo' Pete Mateese, his pahdneh that didn't come back. Befo' he died he found the gold he know'd was theah. We seen the gold, an' it's cached theah yet, jest wheah he done left it. Carlson was a man. If Pete Mateese had went back, he'd of be'n livin' now. An' Pete Mateese would of went back if he'd of be'n let alone." He ceased speaking and, without a word, Big McDougall and Dick Colton rose from their chairs and passed out into the night. The little clock ticked monotonously while the others waited. Presently the two returned, and between them walked a little, rat-faced man. The man was Mr. Squigg, and as he entered, his slit-like eyes blinked rapidly in the lamp-light, and shot nervous, venomous glances upon the faces of the occupants of the cabin. At sight of Pete Mateese his face flushed, then paled, and his thin lips curled backward from his teeth.
"What you doin' here?" he rasped.
"He was sent fo', Misteh Squigg, same as yo' was," drawled Waseche Bill.
"This is an outrage!" squeaked the man. "Who are you? And what right have you got to bring folks here against their will?"
"Who, me? Oh, I'm Waseche Bill. I jest wanted fo' to meet up with yo'—that's all. Yo' name fits yo' like a new glove, don't it, Misteh Squigg? An', Misteh Squigg, this heah's my pahdneh, Connie Mo'gan. I jest heahd how yo' tried fo' to beat him out of this heah claim, back when he beat out the stampede."
"He's a minor, an' he can't hold no claim," whimpered the man; "I'm a lawyer, an' I know. But that was a long while ago. I'll let that pass."
"Sho' now, Misteh Squigg," Waseche drawled, "it's good of yo' to let that pass. We was feared yo' mout of laid it up against yo'self. But theah's anotheh li'l matteh we-all would like to cleah up befo' the evenin's oveh. Yo' rec'lect I'm the pahty that bought them dawgs off yo' in Eagle—but we'll come to that lateh. This heah Pete Mateese, now, the's sev'el li'l items we-all want the straight of. Fust off, wheah's the can of gold Pete Mateese give yo' to buy grub with in Eagle?"
"It's none of your business!" shrilled the man. "Besides, it's a lie! I didn't see no gold. Let me out of here! You ain't got no right to hold me."
"Ain't we? Well, Misteh Squigg, yo' might's well know yo' ah undeh arrest, an' we-all aim to give yo' a faih an' speedy trial."