"That's what folks think. But I suppose he told Monk Bethune all about it."
The thinly veiled sneer goaded the girl to anger. "Yes, he did," she answered, hotly, "and he told me, too!"
"Told Monk all about it, did he—location an' all, I suppose?"
"He intended to, yes," answered the girl, defiantly. "The day he made his strike, Mr. Bethune happened to be away up in British Columbia, and daddy told Lord Clendenning that he had made his strike, and he drew a map and sent it to Mr. Bethune by Lord Clendenning."
Holland smoothed the blanket into place upon the back of the buckskin, and reached for his saddle. "An' of course, Monk, he wouldn't file till you come, so you'd be sure an' get a square deal——"
"He never got the map or the photos. Lord Clendenning lost them in a river. And he nearly lost his life, and was rescued by an Indian."
There was a sound very like a cough, and Patty glanced sharply at the cowpuncher, but his back was toward her, and he was busy with his cinch. "Tough luck," he remarked, as he adjusted the latigo strap. "An', you say, yer dad told you all about this partnership business?"
"No, he didn't."
"Mr. Bethune."