He lapsed off again into coma. Van feared the man was dead. But having lived a stubborn life, Barger relinquished his hold unwillingly, despite his having ceased at last to care.
For nearly an hour Van worked above him, on the ground. Then the man not only aroused as before, but sat up, propped on his arm.
"God, I had to—wake!" he said. "I was sure—forgettin' to tell you."
Van thought the fellow's mind was wandering.
"Lie down, Matt, lie down," he answered. "Try to take it easy."
"Too late—fer me to take—anything easy," replied the outlaw, speaking with a stronger voice than heretofore. "Gimme a drink of whisky."
Van gave him the drink and he tossed it off at a draught.
"I said to myself I'd be—hanged if I'd tell you, that—day you cheated the quicksand," Barger imparted jerkily, "but you've got—a—right to know. McCoppet and that—pal of his give Lawrence twenty thousand—dollars, cash, to queer you on the—reservation line and run you off your claim."
Van scrutinized the sunken face and glittering eyes with the closest attention.
"What's that?" he said. "Bought Lawrence to fake out the reservation line? Who told you, Matt? Who told you that?"