The convict seemed to gain in strength. He was making a terrible effort to finish all he had to impart.
"Trimmer put me—on to all the game. It was him that told me—you was goin' through, when I—pretty near got you, in the pass."
Van's eyes took on a deep intensity.
"Trimmer? Trimmer?"
"Larry Trimmer—Pine-tree Trimmer," explained the convict impatiently. "McCoppet—wanted you detained, the day they—jumped your claim. Lawrence—he run the line out crooked fer—twenty thousand bucks. Culver was put away by Cayuse, mebbe because—he was square—Larry wasn't sure—— I guess—that's all, but it ought to—help you some."
He dropped himself down and languidly closed his eyes.
"Good heavens, man," said Van, still staring, "are you sure of what you're saying?"
There was no response for a time. Then Barger murmured:
"Excuse me, Van Buren, fer—bein' so damn—long—dyin'."
"You're not dying, Matt—go to sleep," said. Van. "I'll be here beside you, all night."