But there might be a chance—he could see shovels and picks leaning against a rock near the fire. Some of these men must be miners and if so they would be apt to make use of powder or explosive in some form.
Ike was near enough to catch some words of the conversation when the men arose, knocked the ash from their pipes, and going back under the side of a great leaning rock, rolled in their blankets and said good night.
For a time—a long time, it seemed to him—Ike waited until he felt sure the men were all asleep, and then he began a quiet investigation of the place on his own hook.
The fire had sunk away to a few embers, the flickering blaze from which cast fantastic and dancing shadows on the rocks and walls. Indeed, the stealthy figure might have been mistaken for a part of the fitting picture painted by the fire gods.
Ike found food and regaled himself and stuffed his pockets for his guilty partner on the rim above—and then, “Eureka!” Here were two cans of blasting powder—and a fuse! a big coil of it!
A devilish plot began to form in the abnormal gray matter of the bad man’s brain.
Here were some of the men he hated most; here were stores of provision and good horses. In this stronghold he and Price could hide until search for them should be exhausted—if there were none having a prior claim—and here, at his hand, were the means of jumping the claims of those who came before and taking possession of all.
How easy it would be—all that seemed necessary was to attach the fuse—so; and place the keg under the side of this pile of rocks—so; and softly pull some of them into a position around and on top of it—so.
The mass of loose stones and blocks of granite, that had been cleared from the almost level floor of the camping place, lay in just the right position to be hurled in their deadly mission, full upon the sleeping men.
“Yes, how easy it would be!”