“That was Two-gun Murray, one of the most notorious gun-fighters on the range. He has more brains than his brother, Hawk Murray, and some personal charm, but he is a cold-blooded ruffian. Is he the fellow you saw down by the river, that Miss Briggs has told me about?” questioned White, turning to Stacy.
“Yes. And he is the fellow who stole my fish and ate my beans,” complained the boy.
“I wonder what that crowd was after Sam Petersen for?” reflected the guide, regarding the two Overlanders from beneath half-closed eyelids.
“He had something that they wanted—information or something of the sort,” murmured Miss Briggs. Elfreda was not yet ready to confide in the guide. She wished for time to think over carefully what Petersen had told her, and to examine his diary critically.
“I don’t quite get it, but I will,” he replied.
Ham White got up briskly.
“Come, Stacy. Let us do our duty.”
“Just a moment,” begged Elfreda. “I wish to do something here first. Will you two please step outside?”
The guide gave her a quick look, and his face hardened ever so little. He bowed and walked from the cabin. The instant he was out of sight, Miss Briggs got the bag of gold and secreted it in her blouse.
“Mr. White, I am going out in the forest to think, while you are busy here,” she added, stepping from the cabin. Elfreda’s face was flushed. Hamilton White regarded her narrowly but merely nodded in reply to her announcement. That nod was cold, and Miss Briggs realized it. Her head was held a little higher as she walked away, though she knew that self-imagined guilt was at the back of her annoyance.