“Then Indians are mixed up in this?” he asked finally.
“Yes. There are a dozen or more of them. They intend to swoop down on the Three-ply to-morrow afternoon, steal the amalgam from that clean-up, stand off any of your miners and millmen who show fight, and escape into Mexico.”
“I’m willing to take your word about the intended robbery, but I can’t think that Bernritter has anything to do with it. Why, man, that fellow has worked for me five years. He’s—he’s engaged to marry my daughter, Annie, who is away visiting in ’Frisco. I can’t think he’d do me dirt like that!”
“It’s hard, I know,” said the scout, in a kindly tone, “to have your confidence betrayed by a man like Bernritter. Still, the facts are sometimes brutal, McGowan. It is far and away better for you to find out what sort of a fellow Bernritter is now than after his marriage to your daughter.”
McGowan, greatly shaken, bowed his head thoughtfully.
“The night is wearing to a close,” went on the scout briskly, “and we must have our plans all laid before morning. How many men have you in the camp on whom you can absolutely rely?”
“I thought I could rely on all of them,” was the slow answer, “with the possible exception of Jacobs. The cyanid expert has only been here for a few months, and I never liked him. He’s a good workman, however, and I’ve kept him solely for that reason.”
“How many men are on the night-shift in the mine?”
“Eleven.”