"Does any blank, blank son of a horse thief," he cried, when Sinclair had done, "say I am the man that broke open that cache? Let him stand up forninst me and say so." He gnashed his teeth in his rage. "Whin Tim Carroll goes to git even wid a man he doesn't go behind his back fur it, and yez all know that! No," he cried, planting his huge fist with a crash upon the table, "I didn't put a finger on the cache nor his ponies ayther, begob!"
"All right, Carroll, we are glad to hear it," said Sinclair, in a cold, stern voice. "You needn't get so wild over it. You cannot frighten us, you know. Every man here can give an account of his doings last week—can you?"
"I can that same," said Carroll, somewhat subdued by Sinclair's tone and manner. "I am not afraid to say that we went up to see a mine we heard of."
"You and Crawley, you mean?" said Sinclair quietly.
"Yes," continued Carroll, "and that's fair enough, too; and we hunted around a week fur it, an' came back."
"Did you find your mine?" asked Sinclair.
"We did not, and it's a blank, blank fool I was to listen to the yarn of the drunken old fool of a doctor."
"Thank you, Carroll. Now, I do not think myself that you touched that cache."
"If he did, he will swing for it," said a voice, cool and relentless, in the crowd.
Carroll started a little as he heard that voice.