It was Hal who answered. “I am seeking a criminal, Percy.”
“What?” There were little cries of alarm from the women.
“Yes, a criminal; the man who sealed up the mine.”
“Sealed up the mine?” echoed the other. “What do you mean?”
“Let me explain. First, I will introduce my friends. Harrigan, this is my friend Keating.”
Billy suddenly realised that he had a hat on his head. He jerked it off; but for the rest, his social instincts failed him. He could only stare. He had not yet got all his breath.
“Billy's a reporter,” said Hal. “But you needn't worry—he's a gentleman, and won't betray a confidence. You understand, Billy.”
“Y—yes,” said Billy, faintly.
“And this,” said Hal, “is Jeff Cotton, camp-marshal at North Valley. I suppose you know, Percy, that the North Valley mines belong to the 'G. F. C.' Cotton, this is Mr. Harrigan.”
Then Cotton remembered his hat; also his revolver, which he tried to get out of sight behind his back.