"Remarks is all right. It's yore questions ain't. Stranger, for a feller who's just makin' talk yore eyes are a heap too interested. I been in this business too long a time not to be able to read a gent's eyes. Yo're a-huntin' for somethin', you are."
"I'm a-huntin' a job—that's all. What do yuh take me for, anyway?"
"I dunno how to take yuh. I——"
"Oh, have another drink an' forget it."
"Shore I'll have another drink, but I dunno as I—— Oh, well, yo're all right, o' course. I'm gettin' foolish, I guess."
Her words did not carry conviction, and certainly she did not cease to watch Loudon with furtive keenness. He strove by means of many drinks and a steady flow of conversation to dispel her suspicions. The girl played up to perfection, yet, when he bade her good-night, it was with the assured belief that she and Archer would have a little talk within five minutes.
The bar was nearly empty when Loudon and Laguerre entered the hotel. Two drunken punchers were sleeping on the floor, a mongrel under a table was vigorously hunting for fleas, and the bartender was languidly arranging bottles on the shelves. Loudon ordered drinks and treated the bartender.
"Any chance o' pickin' up a stake in the Dry Mountains?" hazarded Loudon.
"How?" queried the bartender.
"Placer minin'."