Baldy told Meline about his son and of their agreement to meet at eight o’clock. The arrangement seemed to please Meline greatly.
“Jack might know more than we do about it,” said Meline. “He is no fool, that boy.”
“Ain’t he?” asked Baldy innocently.
“He is not,” declared Meline warmly. “In fact he knows as much about this deal as I do. He’s game, too. Nobody heard him crying for assistance, did they? Kept his mouth shut, didn’t he? Nobody knows who he is. Calls himself Jack Hill.” Meline laughed softly. “Jack’s all right, you bet I trained him myself.”
“All right,” Baldy spoke disgustedly. “I’d hate like hell to have you train anythin’ for me.”
“You are entitled to your private opinion,” said Meline coldly.
“I hope so,” smiled Baldy. “What are we goin’ to do about that stuff at the Tumblin’ H?”
“Wait until we talk with Jack. If we make a foolish move, it might ruin our chances for any further work; and the game is too good right now for us to take a chance. I’d like to have a talk with Lee Yung. He might have some good ideas, Kern.”
“Damn slant eye!” grunted Baldy.
“He’s a square shooter, Kern.”