"I hope they didn't get it."
"No. It was in the bank, but when everything was settled up there was little more than enough to bring me here, so"--she smiled bravely--"I shall have to find my uncle, or some work. You have not heard the name?"
"No, but I have been here but a little while myself, and there are outlying settlers I may not have come in contact with. I will make inquiries at once. Of course, it is possible he is not using his own name, but we won't anticipate difficulty." He saw a tiny crease in her smooth forehead, and asked, "Anything else troubling you?"
"I was wondering if I left Mister Mason rather abruptly--the young cowboy who was holding my bag," she explained. "He was very kind during the journey, he protected me ..."
"Protected you?" Lesurge repeated.
"Yes, the other passenger was--unpleasant," she replied. "I should not like to be deemed ungrateful."
"I'll put that right," he assured her. "Naturally you were a little flustered. These cowboys have pretty tough hides, anyway. As for the other fellow, I'll have a word with him too; you won't have any more trouble in that quarter, I promise 'ou " He cut short her thanks with a wave of the hand. Then, raving suggested that it would be best to keep her affairs to herself for the present, he went out to find Philip Ducane. A ew paces from the hotel he met the "unpleasant" passenger, vho greeted him with a scowl; he had been at the bottle again. "Hell of a time yore friends have to wait for you when here's a skirt around," he growled.
Lesurge surveyed him with cool contempt. "If you weren't trunk you wouldn't have the presumption to refer to me as a friend," he said bitingly. "Get this; you are merely a tool [ use, and throw away if it proves inefficient. I learn that you nade yourself `unpleasant' to Miss Ducane on the way here. [f that happens again, I shall make myself `unpleasant' to (ou" A sudden thought occurred to him. "You haven't told anyone here that you know me?" He saw the lie on the other's lip. "You would. Of all the blundering blockheads ... I suppose the whole town knows?"
"I on'y mentioned it to that cowpunch fella, Mason, what come with us," the man grumbled.
"And he'll pass it on to the girl, of course," Lesurge said disgustedly. "Well, we must deal with him. Didn't you tell me that Miss Ducane's father--died?"
"So he did," Fagan replied.
"Yes, a man is apt to with four inches of steel in his throat," Paul said acidly, and caught the furtive look of fear in the other's eyes. That was good; he liked to have a hold over those he employed; it lessened the risk.
"She talked then," Fagan ventured.
"Quite a lot," was the meaning reply. "What was her father like?"
"Short, dark fella, goin' grey, with a scar over the left eye--claimed he got it fallin' off a fence. No snap to him, but middlin' chattersome. Farmed a quarter section but I don't reckon he made much."
"What was his name? The girl only referred to him as `Dad..' "
"George, but he was generally knowed as `Squint'--him bein' a bit cross-eyed."
"Excellent. Well, I've been busy here trying to get on the track of Philip Ducane. I think I've talked with every man within ten miles of this place but no one appears to have heard of anyone who might be the fellow, which is fortunate for us." Fagan's face expressed astonishment. "You got me guessin'," he admitted.
"That surprises me, of course," was the sarcastic rejoinder. "Obviously, since the real uncle is missing, we must supply one--can't let a lady travel all this way to be disappointed, can we? She has never seen this relative, and with the facts you found out and what she let slip to me, we can prime our man so that he'll pass muster. The only difficulty is to find a person to play the part."
"Seems a lot o' trouble," Fagan objected. "If she's got the letter tellin' how to find the mine, that's all we want."
"Unfortunately, the matter is not nearly so simple, owing to the fact that the letter no longer exists. Ducane apparently considered there was risk and destroyed it, he and the girl first committing the important part to memory. That's why you didn't find it on the body."
"I tell you I
"Don't trouble; for a rogue you're the poorest liar I ever met," Lesurge interrupted. "Anyway, the past is done with; we have to deal with the future. Where can we find our man? He must be about the right age, devoid of scruples, and know a great deal about gold-mining--by heaven! I've got it--Snowy."
"That lyin' of soak I see in the saloon?" Fagan gibed. "Why, he's on'y a half-wit."
"And at that he'll have more sense than you." The brutal retort pierced even the calloused consciousness of the man to whom it was directed.
"See here, Paul," he protested. "You've been handlin' me pretty rough with that tongue o' yores; I expect to be treated like a 'uman bein', not the mat you wipe your boots on. Don't forget I put you up to this racket."
"Because you couldn't handle it yourself."
"Mebbe, but if I choose to chatter ... " For an instant the other lost control and his usually placid features were distorted by a venomous fury before which Fagan, hard-boiled as he was, quailed.
"I'm boss, and I'll treat you as I please," Lesurge gritted. "Double-cross me and I'll make this world so hot for you that you'll shiver when you land in hell. It's been tried, and by cleverer men, and you know what happened to them." The spate of passion went as quickly as it had come and the mask was back. "Don't be a fool, Fagan. If Ducane told the truth, this is the biggest thing I have ever attempted; success should put us on Easy Street for life. Think of it, you'll be able to live--I should say--spend, like a gentleman." The ruffian did not resent the bitter gibe; the prospect of gain was alluring, and moreover, he knew the fiendish nature of this man and feared him. Paul Lesurge had an evil reputation among his "friends."
"What d'you want me to do?" he asked, submissively enough.
"Get hold of that cowboy, Mason, and find out how much the girl has told him." Fagan looked uncomfortable. "Him an' me ain't on the best o' terms--he got uppity on the journey, over the gal--an' we had a ruckus." Knowing that the other man must hear of it, he told the story, his own way. "Took me unawares, blast his soul, an' if the other guy hadn't sat in, we wouldn't have had to trouble about Mister Mason," he concluded vindictively.
Lesurge took the news calmly. "It's a pity," he said.
"Shore is," Fagan agreed. "I'd 'a' blowed him to bits."
"I wasn't meaning that, but you may be right," was the reply. "Well, it can't be helped; I'll tackle Mason myself. That other cowboy may prove troublesome too; an awkward customer, I fancy."
"Huh! there's allus one way."
"Yes. Did you notice the butts of his guns?"
"Keeps his tally on 'em, eh?"
"If he did I wouldn't think twice about him," Lesurge said. "He's a stranger and doesn't seem to have any business here."
"Them cow-wrastlers drifts around considerable."
"True, and we shall be on the move ourselves soon and quit of them both." In which Paul Lesurge, for once in his life, was wrong.
* * * Snowy possessed the doubtful distinction of owning the most dilapidated dug-out in Wayside. Here, seated on rude stools, with the remains of a bottle of whisky--brought by the visitor--between them, Paul Lesurge and the tenant of the dug-out were conversing.
"Well, that's the position," Paul said. "What do you think of it?" Snowy considered for a while, sucking at a very excellent cigar with which he had been provided. His dull eyes and hesitant articulation showed that he had not neglected the liquid part of the entertainment. He shook his head.
"Seems kind o' tough to ring in a stranger on the gal," he offered. "A nice-appearin' lass, too."
"It will be doing her a service," Lesurge pointed out. "I've searched all over and this Ducane fellow hasn't been heard of. What is she to do out here all alone, and with no money? But with us to help her . .." His alert mind forestalled the next question. "You see, she wouldn't trust strangers with what she regards as her uncle's secret."