He suggested to Clymer and Plunkett that a good plan would be to try and steal the bill of sale given by Jim Sanders to Prawle.
As neither of the two conspirators had the nerve to engage in such a hazardous enterprise himself, Coffey proposed, for a $20 bill, to send a Chinaman he employed about the premises, on this mission to the camp of the newcomers at the creek.
He introduced them to Meen Fun, who he said was the individual for the job.
So the Mongolian was duly instructed and dispatched.
“If he succeeds in getting his fingers on that paper the game will be in our hands,” said Plunkett to his partner in the nefarious scheme, as they sat at the table in Coffey’s saloon awaiting the return of their moon-eyed agent.
“Yes,” coincided Clymer, “for we have already managed to get a duplicate from Sanders in our own names to take the place of the original. A hundred dollar bill will induce the old soak to swear that he sold the claim to us, and that he doesn’t know anything about this man Prawle and his companions.”
“Coffey says we can depend on the Celestial to get the document, if it is to be obtained, for he says the Old Nick isn’t a circumstance alongside of Meen Fun,” returned Plunkett, blowing a cloud of smoke ceiling-ward as he puffed one of the establishment’s villainous cigars.
“If it is to be obtained!” ejaculated Clymer, with an ugly frown. “It must be obtained, or——”
“Well,” remarked Plunkett, as his companion paused, “or what?”
“We must adopt extremer measures.”