“Why didn’t the trapper dig it up? You must hev told him.”
“Because he was afraid to keep it in or near his cabin. We meant to leave it until we were ready to get out of the country.”
That appeared plausible to Fresno and he grew more thoughtful.
Meanwhile the altercation among the other three ruffians assumed proportions that augured a fight.
“I’ll divide this sack when I git good an’ ready,” declared Sandy.
“But, pard, thet’s no square deal,” protested Old Miles. “I’m a-gittin’ mad. I seen you meant to keep it all.”
The dark-faced ruffian shoved a menacing fist under Sandy’s nose. “When do I git mine?” he demanded.
Fresno wheeled and called, “Frank, you come here!”
The other approached sullenly. “Fresno, thet Sandy is whole hog or none!” he exclaimed.
“Let ‘em fight it out,” replied Fresno. “We’ve got a bigger game.... Besides, they’ll shoot each other up. Then we’ll hev it all. Come, give ‘em elbow room.”