“We’ve heard that kind of talk before,” replied the man, “and have had enough of it. You tell that to the boss of the gang at the mine; and whatever he says, we’ll agree to.”
“Yes, but at the mine—How many are there, by the way?”
“You’ll see when you reach the spot.”
“Well, even if there’s one more, he divides the loot with you. You can make better terms with me now than you can at the mine.”
“Chuck it, stranger. There ain’t no use giving us any more taffy. You’re going on to the mine.”
“All right,” said Steele, turning on his heel. “I’ll have breakfast first. Is the coffee ready, Jackson?”
“Yes, sir.”
The prisoner sat down at the collapsible table and enjoyed a hearty meal.
At noon they reached the mine, and a dozen, gaunt, wild-eyed men, who were sitting round, stood up when the riders came into sight. They gave no cheer when they saw the captive, nor did their attitude of listless, bored indifference change a particle as Steele stopped his horse and dismounted.
“Here’s the goods,” said the leader of the muleteers, and the boss of the mining gang nodded, but made no reply.