"It looked like bullets would be flyin'. I won't say who would 'a' got who if they had," he said modestly. "But I wasn't lookin' for no trouble. I don't aim to be one of these here fire-eaters, but I'll fight like a wildcat when I got to." The prospector looked defiantly at Sanders, bristling like a bantam which has been challenged.
"We certainly owe you something for the way you drew the outlaws off our trail," Dave said gravely.
"Say, have you heard how the Government is gettin' after Steelman? He's a wily bird, old Brad is, but he slipped up when he sent out his advertisin' for the Great Mogul. A photographer faked a gusher for him and they sent it out on the circulars."
Sanders nodded, without comment.
"Steelman can make 'em flow, on paper anyhow," Thomas chortled. "But he's sure in a kettle of hot water this time."
"Mr. Steelman is enterprising," Dave admitted dryly.
"Say, Mr. Sanders, have you heard what's become of Shorty and Doble?" the prospector asked, lapsing to ill-concealed anxiety. "I see the sheriff has got a handbill out offerin' a reward for their arrest and conviction. You don't reckon those fellows would bear me any grudge, do you?"
"No. But I wouldn't travel in the hills alone if I were you. If you happened to meet them they might make things unpleasant."
"They're both killers. I'm a peaceable citizen, as the fellow says. O' course if they crowd me to the wall—"
"They won't," Dave assured him.