“Gold? Pea-shucks!” he roared, with a furious oath. “An’ I tell you right here I ain’t to be made no fool of. You ken take this mule-headed job an’––an’––well, you ken take it. I quit right here.”
But again Bill ignored his outburst. There was not a vestige of expression in his face as he moved across to the mouth of a shaft Scipio had been sinking before his work had been interrupted by the going of his wife. He looked into it and pointed.
“Guess you best get right on makin’ this hole deeper. Ther’ ain’t nuthin’ like diggin’ to find out. Zip’s sure a wise guy. I don’t guess I know what you’ll likely find––but––you best kep diggin’. That’s sure his notion.”
Sandy went purple in the face, and spluttered violently in his attempt to speak. Finally, when he did get his words out, it was only to repeat his decision.
“It’s jest a mud swamp,” he cried, “an’ I quit.”
Bill turned swiftly. His movements were almost cat-like as he came up and peered into Sandy’s face.
“You’ll kep right on diggin’ that hole,” he said, with an icy threat. “An’ come Wednesday you’ll quit diggin’ an’ hit the trail on Zip’s track––you an’ Sunny an’ Toby––an’ you’ll sure see no harm comes to him. But he ain’t to see you, nor to know you’re chasin’ him. An’ you ain’t to stop him, no matter what fool trick he gets playin’. Get me?”
Sandy’s choler died out before the other’s purpose. He suddenly realized that his work on the claim was not of any great consequence to his employer, that Bill had other thoughts, other schemes in his head, and that he, Sandy, was to have his place in them. He nodded.
“I get you,” he said. “But––”
“Ther’ ain’t no ‘buts,’” interrupted Bill. “You’re goin’ to do as I sez. Meanwhiles you’re goin’ right on diggin’ that hole, to earn your dollars.”