“That will be the eleventh of the month. Then I think everything is understood. Now I want to be off. I can just catch the last car to Tejon. Shake. You can finish that drop of whisky by yourself, old man.”
They shook hands and Sharkey was gone.
The other waited for a few moments, cautiously and cunningly listening to the retreating footsteps. Then he sprang erect, transformed in an instant into a hale and vigorous man. Into his eyes there leapt a flash of joy, in his heart was a song of triumph.
“So the villain Ben Thurston will be there at Comanche Point on the very anniversary of the night, just thirty years ago, when he committed that foul crime—at the very spot where the poor little Senorita Rosetta and her unborn babe perished at his hands. Glory be to God! At last the hour of vengeance comes!”
CHAPTER XXX—Don Manuel Appears
A GOODLY little sack of water-worn nuggets of gold had been washed out of the subterranean stream by Pierre Luzon and Dick Willoughby. The captive had found in the work both an exciting pastime and the ease of mind that comes from the thought that his time was being spent to profitable account. So week after week he had toiled on cheerfully, setting for himself each day a full day’s task. In this way also, although the want of sunshine had paled his cheeks, he had maintained his health by the regular physical exercise.
But as the appointed date of his release drew near, Dick’s mining enthusiasm suffered an eclipse. The gold no longer tempted him, the eight-hour day became a burden to his soul, his whole being was possessed with feverish restlessness. He was not only filled with eager excitement at the thought of again folding Merle in his arms, but he was fired with curiosity to know what events were happening outside which would enable him to step forth a free man, exculpated from all connection with the crime of which he had been suspected, restored to an honorable place among his fellow men.
But Pierre remained obstinately deaf to all hints for information.