In the meantime it was quite a different man who was lounging over Minky’s counter talking to Sandy and the storekeeper. Bill had relieved the pressure of his mood for the moment, and now, like a momentarily exhausted volcano, he was enjoying the calm of reaction.
“I’ll need you to start work right away,” he was saying, “an’ you ken draw on me fer all the supplies you need. It’s a dandy claim,” he went on grimly, “but I don’t know fer sure what you’ll likely find on it. Maybe you’ll find suthin’––if you work long enough. Anyways, you’ll start by sinkin’ a shaft; an’ you’ll kep on sinkin’ it till––till I tell you to quit.”
“But that ain’t the regular way gold––”
“Say, whose claim is it? Am I payin’ you or not?” demanded the gambler sharply.
“Sure you are, but you said it was the richest––”
“That was back ther’ at supper,” said Bill coldly. “Guess supper’s over.”
Sandy had no quickness of understanding. He did not appreciate the fineness of the distinction. He shook his head solemnly.
“Maybe I ain’t jest bright enuff to foller––”
“You ain’t,” agreed Bill shortly.
He winked at Minky, who was listening interestedly. Then he turned abruptly and pointed at the array of patent medicines adorning one of the shelves.