Wilder’s tone had suddenly hardened.
“How’d you know that?”
Quick as a flash came the red-headed man’s question.
Wilder’s eyes responded coldly to the challenge. He shook his head.
“Ther’s no reason for me to hand you that, Mike,” he said sharply. “Ther’s no reason for me to hand you a word that way. You signed a partnership in this layout, with me to lead without question. The thing that concerns you is the stuff. Here. You don’t believe that stuff is on this creek. That’s so. I say it is. Our partnership doesn’t quit till fall next year. Well, I guess I’m not yearning to hand you presents. Guess you haven’t found it my way—”
“No.”
Mike grinned as he punctuated the other’s remark.
“Just so,” Wilder nodded. “That being so it’ll make you appreciate the thing I’ll hand you now. I’ll pass you a bank draft for haf a million dollars the day we set foot in Placer if we haven’t located that missioner’s ‘strike’ somewhere along this mud-bottomed creek. An’ I’ll call Chilcoot to witness that goes.”
The two men gazed eye to eye through the haze of smoke. Mike made no movement, but a look of almost foolish doubt was in his mute regard of the man who made his amazing offer. It was different with Chilcoot. He turned almost with a jump.
“Say, you’re crazy, Bill,” he protested.