"I'm a 'sharper' in this, Mr. Van Henslaer," she declared, in face of one of Gordon's frequent protests. "I'm no better than David Slosson. And I—I want you to understand that. I think your ideas of chivalry are just too sweet, but I want you to look with my eyes. We're a bunch of most ordinary folk who want to win out. If you and my daddy thought by burying him, dead or alive, you could beat his hand, why, I guess it would take an express locomotive to stop you. Well, I'm out to try and put him out of harm's way in my own fashion. If I can't do it, why, he'll find I'm not the dandy prairie flower he's figuring I am just now. That's all. So meanwhile get on with any old plans you can find up your sleeve. By hook or crook we've got to make good."
By this expression of the girl's extraordinary determination doubtless Gordon should have been silenced. But he was not silenced, nor anything like it. The truth was he was in love—wildly, passionately, jealously in love. It nearly drove him to distraction to watch the way in which, almost daily, this man Slosson drove out to see Hazel and take her out for buggy rides or horse riding. Not only that, he and her father were practically ignored by the man. They were just so much furniture in the office, and when by any chance the agent did deign to notice them there was generally something offensive in his manner of address.
Worst of all, as the outcome of Hazel's campaign there were no signs that matters were one whit advanced towards the successful completion of their project, and the days had already grown into weeks. All Gordon could do was to busy himself with formulating wild and impossible schemes for beating this creature. And a hundred and one strenuous possibilities occurred to him, all of which, however, offered no suggestion of bending the man, only of breaking him. The sum and substance of all his efforts was a deadly yearning to kill David Slosson, kill him so dead as to spoil forever his chances of resurrection.
This was much the position when, nearly three weeks later, in response to a peremptory note from Slosson in the morning, Silas Mallinsbee decided that Gordon should deal with him on a business visit in the afternoon.
Oh yes, Gordon would interview him. Gordon would deal with him. Gordon would love it above all things. Was he given a free hand?
But Mallinsbee smiled into the fiery eyes of the young giant and shook his head, while Hazel looked on at the brewing storm with inscrutable eyes of amusement.
"There's no free hand for anybody in this thing, Gordon, boy," said Mallinsbee slowly. "And I don't guess there's any crematoriums or undertakers' corporation around Snake's Fall. Anyway, Hip-Lee wouldn't do a thing if you asked him to bury a white man."
"White man?" snorted Gordon furiously.
"Remember you're—fighting for my daddy as well as yourself, Mr. Van Henslaer," said Hazel earnestly.
Gordon sighed.