“Well, he’s struck something. There is a small army pouring into Shoestring from Maryville. It’s a regular, old-time gold rush.”
“Damn!” said Sucatash, decisively. 265
He pondered the news a moment.
“In these days,” he finally said, “with gold mines bein’ shut down because it don’t pay to work ’em, there wouldn’t be no rush unless he’d sure struck something remarkable.”
“You’ve guessed it!” said De Launay.
“It’s French Pete’s mine?”
“I don’t see any other explanation.”
Again Sucatash was silent for a time. Then:
“That little girl is sure out o’ luck!” he said. There was a deep note of sympathy in the casual comment. And the cow-puncher looked at De Launay in a manner which the soldier readily interpreted.
“No mine, no means of support, no friends within five thousand miles; nothing—but a husband she doesn’t want! Is that what you’re thinking?”