“Ah!” said Stirling,
“That’s about it, I guess,” said the man from Tucson. “Luke is mighty smart in his law business. Well, gents, good-day to you. I must be getting after the rest of my witnesses.”
“Have you seen Mrs. Sproud?” I asked him.
“She’s quit the country. We can’t trace her. Guess she was scared.”
“But that gold!” I exclaimed, when Sterling and I were alone. “What in the world have they done with those six other bags?”
“Ah!” said he, as before. “Do you want to bet on that point? Dollars to doughnuts Uncle Sam never sees a cent of that money again. I’ll stake my next quarter’s pay—”
“Pooh!” said I. “That’s poor odds against doughnuts if Pidcock has the paying of it.” And I took my turn at laughing at the humorous Stirling.
“That Mrs. Sproud is a sensible woman to have gone,” said he, reflectively. “They would know she had betrayed them, and she wouldn’t be safe in the valley. Witnesses who know too much sometimes are found dead in this country—but you’ll have government protection.”
“Thank you kindly,” said I. “That’s what I had on the hill.”
But Stirling took his turn at me again with freshened mirth.