“And they can turn it back into agricultural land?”
“That’s what they claim.”
“Why wouldn’t it be a good thing?”
“Maybe it would.”
“I suppose they’ve got the old records of the prospecting that you did, know just how deep the old dredgers could go, and know just where to go after the stuff they want?”
Pete leaned forward. “Damnedest crudest bunch of salting I ever saw in my life.”
“What do you mean?”
“The drilling they’re doing.”
“They’re doing drilling?” I asked.
“Sure. Down here about a mile and a half. My God, but they’re crude.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mean!” he said. “Hell, they just dump the gold in the drill pipe and then pan it back out. Every once in a while they come up with a bunch of suckers. The suckers stand gawking over the gold pan. What they don’t notice is that the drill man has to keep a hand on the rope in order to steady the bit when it’s going up and down. You watch that hand, and every so often you’ll see him dip into his pocket with one hand and take the other hand out of his pocket to steady the drill rope. Watch closer than that, and you can see little colours of gold dribbling down every time he does it — mind you, he’s pretty slick at it. He doesn’t do it so it shows up too big. He’s got it all figured out, and they don’t bring up any gold at all until they get below the place where the old dredger worked. But, brother, you take it from me, when they hit bedrock they put it in plenty rich. You can take the figures they’re getting from their holes and figure the acreage they’ve got lined up, and the mint would have to go out of business. They’d have to dig up the whole darn state of Kentucky to find a place to store the gold.”
“That must take quite a bit of gold.”
“What? To salt the hole?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head. “It don’t take much. They’re damn fools. They’re goin’ to get caught.”
“How many holes have they put down?”
“Three. They’re on the fourth. They’re just started.”
“Know who’s back of it?”
“Nope. Some crowd from the southern part of the state. They’re sellin’ most of their stock around there.”
“How does the town feel about it?”
“Oh, they’re divided. You’ll find croakers and boosters. The minute it begins to look as if they’re goin’ to start puttin’ up a dredger though, you’ll see the Chamber of Commerce standing on its head and wiggling its toes — only they ain’t goin’ to put in no dredger.”
“Why not?”
“Because it would show up their prospects too much. The minute a dredger works that country, it’d show that the ground had been salted. I don’t think they intend to spend no money to put up a dredger. They’re doin’ a lot of talkin’, pourin’ gold into the ground, and gettin’ it back so they can pour it into the next hole. How about fillin’ your glass again?”
I said, “No, thanks. That stuff has authority.”
“It packs a wallop. That’s what I made it for.”
“Go ahead,” I said. “I’ve got to drive the car back.”
“I don’t hit it very hard, but I like it when I’m sittin’ around talkin’ with a friend. You’re a good guy — a writer, eh?”
“Uh, huh.”
“What do you write?”
“Oh, articles about different things.”
“You don’t know much about mining, huh?”
“Not a damn thing.”
“How’d you happen to pick this to write about?”
“I thought it would go over swell — not in a mining journal, but in an agricultural journal.”
He looked at me for a while without saying anything, then he tamped the tobacco down into his pipe, and relaxed to the comfort of smoking.
After a while I told him I’d be on my way, that I’d come back later on perhaps and get some more information. I told him I’d pay him five dollars an evening. He said that was fair enough, and shook hands. “Any time you want to come back and visit,” he said, “it ain’t goin’ to cost you no five bucks. I like you. You fit in. It ain’t everybody I let sit down and visit. And it ain’t one person in a hundred that ever gets to sample any of this stuff.” He jerked his head in the direction of the glass on the table.
“I can understand that,” I said. “Well, so-long.”
“So-long.”
I drove back to the auto court. A big shiny sport coupé was parked in front of the cabin I’d rented. I took my key out of my pocket and opened the door. I heard the sound of motion in an adjoining cabin, and closed my door quickly. Then I heard feet on the graveled walk, light steps on the porch, and a knock on my door.
Well, this was it. I’d done the best I could.
I opened the door.
Alta Ashbury was standing on the threshold. “Hello,” she said.
I held the door open for her. “This,” I said, “isn’t a good place for you to be.”
“Why not?”
“Lots of reasons. For one thing, the detectives are looking for me.”
“Dad told me.”
“For another thing, if they should find us here, the newspapers could make a nice story of it.”
“You mean a love nest?”
“That’s right.”
“How thrilling!” she said, and then added after a moment, “It’ll be all right, in case you’re worried.”
“I am worried.”
“What about, your good name?”
“No, about yours.”
She said, “Dad’s coming up. He’ll reach here about midnight.”
“How’s he coming?”
“Plane.”
“How did you know I was in this camp?”
“I covered them all until I found you. There are only four, you know. I hit this second.”
“Why is your dad coming up?”
“Oh, things are getting hot.”
“What are the new developments?”
“Mr. Crumweather called me on the telephone and asked me to meet him at his office tomorrow afternoon at two o’clock.”
“Don’t go.”
“Why not?”
“I think he has the missing letters. I think he’s getting ready to twist the screws.”
“You mean that he had them all?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t believe this about the detectives selling out the district attorney?”
I shook my head and said, “Take a load off your feet. You’re here now, so you may as well enjoy yourself.”
“Donald, you’ve been drinking.”
“And how?”
“What’s the idea of the celebration?”
“I was having a session with a bootlegger.”
“I didn’t know they had them any more.”
“They’ve always had them. They always will.”
“Was he a nice bootlegger?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Was it good stuff?”
“Pretty fair.”
“Didn’t you bring any with you?”
“Just what I carried away inside of me.”
“It smells as though that had been a lot.” She came closer and sniffed. “Garlic, too.”
“Bother you?”
“Lord, no. I’m sore that you didn’t take me with you. I could have had a lot of fun calling on bootleggers and eating garlic. What was the garlic in?”
“Beans.”
She sat down on one of the creaking auto camp chairs. “Got a cigarette, Donald? I got excited when I heard you drive up, and dashed off without my purse.”
“Where is it?”
“Over in the other cabin.”
I handed her a cigarette. “Got any money in it?”
“Some.”
“How much?”
“Six or seven hundred. I don’t know exactly.”
“Better get it,” I said.
“Oh, it’s all right. Tell me, Donald, why did you come up here?”
“I’m trying to get some stuff on Crumweather.”