"Look here, do I stack up like a Sunday-school superintendent? I thought you and I understood each other. I don't run no game the other man can maybe beat. Didn't you come out here with that understanding?"
"Certainly, I——"
"Then never mind the kid. What have you got in your kahki?"
"Our syndicate to buy the Hen Hawk group——" started Bostwick, but the gambler cut in sharply.
"That's sold and cold. You have to move here; things happen. What did you do about the reservation permit?"
Bostwick looked about the room furtively, and edged his chair a bit closer.
"I secured permission from Government headquarters to explore all or any portions of the reservation, and take assistants with me," he imparted in a lowered tone of voice. "I had it mailed to me here by registered post. It should be at the post-office now."
"Right," said McCoppet with more of an accent of approval in his utterance. "Get it out to-day. I've got your corps of assistants hobbled here in camp. They can get on the ground to-morrow morning."
Bostwick's eyes were gleaming.
"There's certainly gold on this reservation?"