Patty laughed. "My goodness, what frankness!"
"Come on, now, an' set by 'fore the vittles gits cold on us. Yere yo' Horatius Ezek'l an' David Golieth, yo' hay them hosses!"
"No, no! Really, Mrs. Watts, we must not presume on your hospitality. Important business demands our presence elsewhere."
"Lawzie, Mr. Bethune, there yo' go with them big words agin. Which I s'pose yo' mean yo' cain't stay. But they's a plenty, an' yo' welcome." Again Bethune declined and as the woman re-entered the house, he turned to the girl.
"I only just learned of your father's untimely death. Permit me to express my sincerest sympathy, and to assure you that if I can be of service to you in any way I am yours to command."
"Thank you," answered Patty, flushing slightly under the scrutiny of the black eyes. "I am here to locate my father's claim. I want to do it alone, but if I can't I shall certainly ask assistance of his friends."
"Exactly. But, my dear Miss Sinclair, let me warn you. There are men in these hills who suspected that your father made a strike, who would stop at nothing to wrest your secret from you." The girl nodded. "I suppose so. But forewarned is forearmed, isn't it? I thank you."
"Thet Vil Holland wus by yeste'day," said Watts.
Bethune frowned. "What did he want?"
"Didn't want nothin'. Jest come a-ridin' by."