He passed into the bedroom, and, in a few moments, reappeared. Now he was bearing something in his hand. He held it carefully, and in his eyes was something like terror of what he held. The thing he carried was an old-fashioned revolver. It was rusty. But it had a merciless look about it. He turned it up gingerly. Then he opened the breach, and loaded all the six chambers. Then he carefully bestowed it in his coat pocket, where it bulged obtrusively.
Now he moved to the open doorway, and somehow his original furtiveness had returned to him. Here he paused as the voice of the twins reached and held him. They were still playing in the sun, banking up the sand and stones in their futile attempt at castle building. He breathed hard, as though summoning up all his decision. Then he spoke.
“Say, kiddies,” he said firmly. “I’ll be right back at supper.”
And he moved out without another look in their direction, and walked off in the direction of Minky’s store.
CHAPTER IV
SCIPIO BORROWS A HORSE
Scipio found an almost deserted camp after floundering his way over the intricate paths amongst the refuse-heaps.
The miners had departed to their claims with a punctuality that suggested Trades Union principles. Such was their existence. They ate to live; they lived to work, ever tracking the elusive metal to the earth’s most secret places. The camp claimed them only when their day’s work was done; for the rest, it supported only their most urgent needs.