Again Steve Gibbons’ long whip cracked like a pistol shot over the backs of his horses. Presently he said:
“I don’t tell everybody, pardner, but I ‘spect it makes no difference with you. You see, when Rufus Grim came to Gold Bluff some fifteen years ago, he was so darnation poor he couldn’t buy a meal of victuals. Hank and I had staked out the Peacock.
We had found some mighty rich float rock in that part of the mountain, and knew the precious stuff was not very far away. We ‘grub-staked’ Grim and put him to work on wages, and while he was workin’, he struck a ‘pocket’ and found free gold—a regular vault full of yellow stuff. He commenced his treachery by stealin’ every grain of it, and then cleverly walled up that part of the shaft and continued diggin’ in the opposite direction, endeavorin’ to get as far away from the place where he had made the discovery as possible. Well, by and by Hank Casey and me got tired of payin’ out money, and we sold out the Peacock for a mere song to Grim. Soon after, the name of Rufus Grim was known all over the mountain district as a bonanza king. He organized an immense company, and owns most of the stock himself. Within six months after we were defrauded of our rights in the Peacock, he was a rich man, and has been gettin’ richer ever since. Hank Casey and me have a whole lot of evidence. B. Webster Legal says if we can prove what we claim, that we have got a lead pipe cinch on the Peacock. The papers are bein’ drawn up, and things are goin’ to be sizzlin’ hot for Rufus Grim before many moons go over his head.”
Vance expressed much surprise and sympathy at the injustice he had sustained.
“Say, pardner,” said Steve, “I kind o’ reckon you’re shinin’ up a little toward old Bonifield’s gal, ain’t you?” and he nudged Vance in the ribs with his elbow.
The question was so unexpected that Vance hardly knew how to reply. “I hope,” replied Vance, “that I am not in disfavor with the young lady, or her father either. I own an interest in Gray Rocks.”
“The dickens you do!” said Steve Gibbons. “Well, if there’s any man in these mountains, pardner, who ought to strike it, old Ben Bonifield is the one. He’s been stickin to Gray Rocks for a good many years, and is one of the squarest men in the Fish River Minin’ District, while that gal of his—-why, she is the gem of all these diggins. I did think J. Arthur Boast had the inside track on the Bonifield ranch, but here lately I ‘lowed as maybe Boast was playin’ second fiddle; but then you can’t tell how a game is goin’ to end until the last card is played.”