“What else could you expect?” replied Price testily. “They’re combin’ these hills for you.” He looked at Rathburn keenly, but Rathburn only smiled.
“That’s not news to me,” he said quietly; “I’ve percolated through their lines twice.”
“Stay here,” said Price, “and I’ll look after your horse––or were you hidin’ up all day?”
“No such luck,” answered Rathburn grimly.
The old man looked at him curiously; then he went out of the door, closing it carefully after him.
Rathburn found cold food, put it on the table, and sat down to eat. When Price returned he had finished. The old miner sat down in a chair opposite Rathburn.
“Now, out with it,” he said. “Something has happened. I can see it in the way you look an’ act. What’s up?”
Rathburn carefully rolled a brown-paper cigarette, snapped a match into flame, and lit it before he replied. He was half smiling.
“I held up the State Bank of Hope this mornin’ an’ extracted a bag of perfectedly good bills,” he announced. “Didn’t bother with the counter money. Made ’em serve me from the vault.”