Mart's eyes opened. "No call to get het up," he said mildly. "Yo're a reg'lar hawg though. What 'bout Lu Lavigne? That dame is liable to put a pill into yu if yu play tricks."
"I've got a use for Nan Purdie," King replied.
"Me too," Mart said coarsely, and laughed.
"Then yu better forget it; I meant what I said. Bein' my brother won't save yu," King rasped, and went out of the room.
"He'd do it too, damn him," Mart muttered. "Well, she's a pretty nice piece, but ... Wonder how in hell I missed that cussed cow-punch?"
Chapter XIV
THE C P foreman had mounted his horse and was pacing away from the corral when Yago came up.
"Which way yu headin', Jim?" he asked.
"Mind yore own damn business," Sudden grinned. "Aimin' to ride herd on me?"
"I ain't, but if yu don't show up, it'd be useful to know where to look," Bill told him.
"That's so," the foreman agreed soberly. "Never can tell in these stirrin' times. I'm pointin' south-west--ain't looked over that part o' the range yet."
"She's pretty wild--not much good for grazin'," Yago told him. "Dangerous country, I'd call it."
Sudden nodded and smiled; he knew his friend was warning him. Passing the ranch-house, he struck off to the right, climbing the lower slope of the mountain. At first he followed a faint trail, but presently left it and headed for a point he had already picked out--a clump of tall pines which rose above the surrounding timber. He noted that the feed was sparse and poor in quality; there were few cattle about. The pines proved to be further away than he had thought, masses of rock from the peak above and thickets of prickly pear making detours inevitable.
When at length he came in sight of it he was surprised to find a habitation. It was a tiny place, tucked in among the trees, and built of unbarked logs. A hole in one corner of the earthed roof served as a chimney, and from this a thin twist of smoke was ascending. From the small pole corral behind the hut a burro brayed, and Sudden's mount responded with a friendly whicker. Instantly a man showed himself in the open doorway, clutching a rifle, and peering suspiciously from beneath the brim of his hat.
"Hold on thar or I'll drill yer. What yer want?" he barked.
The puncher flung up a hand, palm outwards, to signify that his intentions were peaceful, and came steadily on. Evidently the man now recognized him, for he lowered his weapon and gave vent to a throaty chuckle.
"Yu, mister, is it?" he said. "Yu gotta s'cuse me--my danged eyesight ain't as good as it useter be. Rest yore saddle--I got some coffee boilin'."
It was the old prospector, California. The visitor got down, trailed his reins, and seated himself on a rude bench outside the shack door. In a few moments his host joined him, bearing two tin mugs of steaming, black beverage.
"I'm out o' milk, but there's more sweetenin' if yu want her," he apologized.
Sudden sampled the liquid and pronounced it excellent, which brought a satisfied grin to the old man's wrinkled features.
"Guess I c'n make coffee," he said. "Oughta be able to --musta made enough to float a fleet in my time."
"First look I've had at this part of our range," the foreman remarked. "Didn't know anyone was livin' up here. What yu got--a quarter-section?"
"No, I ain't a 'nester'--can't be bothered with land nohow," California explained. "Why, I'm liable to pull stakes an' drift any time. Purdie gimme leave to run up the shack an' scratch around. It's nice an' quiet up here."
The visitor smiled; he was listening to an incessant, rumbling roar, like that of heavy seas breaking on a shingly shore, but without the sucking swish of the backwash.
"Thunder?" he queried.
"Aye, li'l old Thunder River," the miner grinned. "Fella gits so useter that he don't notice it. Yu oughta hear her when snow flies on Stormy. I've sat for hours watchin' the water rippin', tearin', an' thrashing its way through the Sluice; she must be just lousy with gold."
"What makes yu think that?" Sudden asked.
"Don't think--I'm dead shore," California retorted. "Anyone as knows gold would be. Why, even some of them lunkheads down yonder"--he jerked a derisive thumb in the direction of Windy--"has got their suspicions. Lookee, yu can git `colour' most anywheres on the banks o' the river, an' there's patches of alluvial gold an' small `pockets' on the slopes o' the valley, but it's all surface stuff--go deep, an' yu git nothin' but a hole. Now, where's it come from? Didn't fall out'n the skies, I reckon. No, sir, its bin washed down, an' I figure that at one time mebbe a thousand years ago, before the stream had cut itself a channel to run in--this yer valley was periodically flooded an' the fine gold was deposited then. I ain't no scientist, but that's the way I dope her out."
"Sounds likely," the puncher admitted. "But if it's so, all yu gotta do is trace the source o' the river"
The prospector emitted a cackle. "Yo're pickin' a job, I knows of over two score--some of 'em underground springs," he said. " 'Sides, how'd yu know where the water picks up the dust? No, yu can't get at it thataway." His little eyes gleamed cunningly. "But she's here, on Ol' Stormy, just waitin' to be found."
"So right now we might be sittin' atop of a gold-mine," the foreman smiled.
"Yo're shoutin', though I reckon she's higher up," the old man returned seriously. "Somewheres around there's rock that's just rotten with gold." He read the incredulity in the listener's face. "Yu don't believe me?" he cried, and dived into the hut. In a moment he reappeared. "What d'yu make o' that?" he asked triumphantly.
"That" proved to be a piece of quartz about the size of a large egg, jagged and irregular in shape, which the miner almost reverently placed on the bench between them. The puncher picked it up, marvelling at the weight until he saw that the stone was thickly veined with yellow; even a novice would have known it for what men live, and die, to obtain.
"Hell's bells! she's mighty near half gold," Sudden ejaculated.
The prospector chuckled delightedly at the effect he had produced. "yessir, just around," he agreed. "A ton o' rock like that would put even a spendin' fella beyond the reach o' poverty."
Then came the natural question: "Where'd yu find her?"
The crafty eyes twinkled. "It wouldn't help yu none if I told yu," California said, after a pause. "That's `float,'... An' there ain't a smidgin' o' rock like it where 'twas picked up. May have took hundreds o' years to git there or bin dropped by some fella. Think o' searchin'?"
Sudden laughed. "No, never did have the gold fever," he said.
"If yu had yu'd never lose it," the miner said. "Me, I bin scramblin' round Stormy for years--like to have busted my neck a score o' times. An' what for? It ain't the wealth, stranger; all the money in the world won't make me a day younger; it's just findin' it."
"An' yu have found it?" the foreman queried.
"Mebbe I have an' mebbe I ain't, was the non-committal answer. "Didn't expect me to say, did yer?"
Sudden shook his head. "Yu've talked too much as it is; if a whisper o' this got abroad in Windy ... Anyways, yu can reckon me dumb."
"Yo're dead right, Mister, an' I'm obliged," the old man said. "I'm a chatterin' of fool when I talk about gold." The puncher swung into his saddle again, and neither he nor the miner saw the shadow that slipped from the end of the shack, slid along the corral rails, and vanished in the brush at the back. Thus safely concealed, Riley, the Circle B rider, watched the visitor depart. His squinting eyes were popping with excitement. Told off by King Burdette to watch Green, he had hung about the C P and followed him to the prospector's hut, where he had arrived in time to hear the major portion of the conversation and see the "specimen."