His shoes had been exchanged for polished ones, yet he complained about his negligee appearance, and stooped to brush the least speck of dust or cigar ashes that might have found lodgment on his trousers or coat sleeves, and kept assuring Vance that he knew he “looked rougher than a miner.”
As a matter of fact, he was spotlessly at-attired, as was his custom. Even in his office at Waterville, he seemed backward about doing any business, for fear of soiling his hands in ink, or getting his desk out of order. Stepping into the bar-room of the hotel, they found seats near an open door, and Vance determined to gain as much information as he could from what Boast might have to say. As they seated themselves, Vance said:
“I met Mr. Grim this morning.”
“Oh. did you?” replied Boast. “There is a man,” he continued, “that ought to be hung. He’s a robber!”
“A robber?” asked Vance.
“Yes. Fifteen years ago,” continued Boast, “my father was the richest man in this part of Idaho. He was engaged then as now in the cattle and horse ranching business. He owns a very large ranch three miles from here down the valley. Grim came to the mining camp without a dollar in his pocket and worked by the day. An opportunity presented itself for him to steal from his associates. He not only stole everything in sight, but by fraud and misrepresentation secured possession of the Peacock.