CHAPTER IX

A PEACE TALK

While his blood was pounding and his heart was high, Wiley Holman went down into his mine. He rode down on the bucket, deftly balanced on the rim and fending off the wall with one hand, and when he came up he was smiling. Not smiling with his lips, but far back in his eyes, like a man who has found something good. Perhaps Blount surprised the look before it had fled for he beamed upon Wiley benevolently.

"Well, Wiley, my boy," he began confidentially as he drew him off to one side, "I'm glad to see you're pleased. The gold is there--I find that everyone thinks so--all we need now is a little co-operation. That's all we need now--peace. We should lay aside all personal feelings and old animosities and join hands to make the Paymaster a success."

"That's right, that's right," agreed Wiley cheerfully, "there's n.o.body believes in peace more than I do. But all the same," he went on almost savagely, "you've got to get rid of old George. I'm for peace, you understand, but if I find him here again--well, I'll have to take over the property. He's nothing but a professional murderer."

"Yes, I know," explained Blount, "he's a dangerous man--but I don't like to let an old man starve. He's got a right to live the same as any of us, and, since he can't work--well, I gave him a job as watchman."

"Well, all right," grumbled Wiley, "if you want to be charitable; but I suppose you know that, under the law, you're responsible for the acts of your agents?"

"That's all right, that's all right," burst out Blount impatiently, "I'll never hire him again. He refused to obey my orders and----"

"_And_ he tried to kill me!" broke in Wiley angrily, but Blount had thrown up both hands.

"Oh, now, Wiley," he protested, "why can't we be reasonable? Why can't we get together on this?"

"We can," returned Wiley, "but you've got to show me that you're not trying to jump my claim."

"Oh, you know," exclaimed Blount, "as well as I do that a tax sale is never binding. The owners of the property are given five years'

time----"

"It is binding," corrected Wiley, "until the property is bought back--and I happen to be holding the deed. Now, here's the point--what authority have you got for coming in here and working this property?"

"Well, you may as well know," replied Blount shortly, "that I own a majority of the stock."

"Aha!" burst out Wiley. "I was listening for that. So you're the Honest John?"

"What do you mean?" demanded Blount and, seeing the anger in his eyes, he hastened to head off the storm. "No, now listen to me, Wiley; it's not the way you think. I knew your father well, and I always found him the soul of honor; but I never liked to say anything, because Colonel Huff was my partner, too. So, when this trouble arose, I tried to remain neutral, without joining sides with either. It pained me very much to have people make remarks reflecting upon the honesty of your father, but as the confidant of both it was hardly in good taste for me to give out what I knew. So I let the matter go, hoping that time would heal the breach; but now that the Colonel is dead----"

"Aha!" breathed Wiley and Blount nodded his head lugubriously.

"Yes," he said, "that is the way it was. Your father was absolutely honest."

"Well, but who sold the stock, and then bought it back--and put all the blame on my father?"

"I can't tell you," answered Blount. "I never speak evil of the dead--but the Colonel was a very poor business man."

"Yes, he was," agreed Wiley, and then, after a silence: "How did it happen that you got all his stock?"

"Well, on mortgages and notes; and now as collateral on a loan that I made his widow. I own a clean majority of the stock."

"Oh, you do, eh?" observed Wiley and rubbed his jaw thoughtfully while Blount looked mildly on. "Well, what are you going to do?"

"Why, I'd like to buy back that tax deed," answered Blount amiably, "and get control of my property."

"Oh," said Wiley, and looked down the valley with eyes that squinted shrewdly at the sun. "All right," he agreed, "just to show you that I'm a sport, I'll give you a quit-claim deed right now for the sum of one hundred dollars."

"You will?" challenged Blount, reaching tremulously for his fountain pen and then he paused at a thought. "Very well," he said, but as he filled out the form he stopped and gazed uneasily at Wiley. Here was a mining engineer selling a possessory right to the Paymaster for the sum of one hundred dollars; while he, a banker, was spending a hundred dollars a day in what had proved so far to be dead work. "Er--I haven't any money with me," he suggested at length. "Perhaps--well, perhaps you could wait?"

"Sure!" replied Wiley, rising up from where he was seated, "I'll wait for anything, except my supper. Where's the best place to eat in town, now?"

"Why, at Mrs. Huff's," returned Blount in surprise. "But about this quit-claim, perhaps a check would do as well?"

"What, are the Huffs still here?" exclaimed Wiley, starting off. "Why, I thought----"

"No, they decided to stay," answered Blount, following after him. "But now, Wiley, about this quit-claim?"

"Well, gimme your check! Or keep it, I don't care--I came away without my breakfast this morning."

He strode off down the trail and Blount pulled up short and stood gazing after him blankly, then he shouted to him frantically and hurried down the slope to where Wiley was waiting impatiently.

"Here, just sign this," he panted. "I'll write you out a check. But what's the matter, Wiley--didn't the mine show up as expected?"

Wiley muttered unintelligibly as he signed the quit-claim which he retained until he had looked over the check. Then he folded up the check and kissed it surrept.i.tiously before he stored it away in his pocketbook.

"Why, yes," he said, "it shows up fine. I'll see you later, down at the house."

Blount sat down suddenly, but as Wiley clattered off he shouted a warning after him.

"Oh, Wiley, please don't mention that matter I spoke of!"

"What matter?" yelled back Wiley and at another disquieting thought Blount jumped up and came galloping after him.

"The matter of the Colonel," he panted in his ear, "and here's another thing, Wiley. You know Mrs. Huff--she's absolutely impossible and--well, she's been making me quite a little trouble. Now as a personal favor, please don't lend her any money or help her to get back her stock; because if you do----"

"I won't!" promised Wiley, holding up his right hand. "But say, don't stop me--I'm starving."

He ran down the trail, limping slightly on his game leg, and Blount sat down on a rock.

"Well, I'll be bound!" he puffed and gazed at the quit-claim ruefully.

The tables were all set when Wiley re-entered the dining-room from which he had retreated once before in such haste, and Virginia was there and waiting, though her smile was a trifle uncertain. A great deal of water had flowed down the gulch since he had advised her to keep her stock, but the a.s.sayer at Vegas was worse than negligent--he had not reported on the piece of white rock. Therefore she hardly knew, being still in the dark as to his motives in giving the advice, whether to greet Wiley as her savior or to receive him coldly, as a Judas. If the white quartz was full of gold that her father had overlooked--say fine gold, that would not show in the pan--then Wiley was indeed her friend; but if the quartz was barren and he had purposely deceived her in order to boom his own mine--she smiled with her lips and asked him rather faintly if he wanted his supper at once.

But if Virginia was still a Huff, remembering past treacheries and living in the expectancy of more, the Widow cast aside all petty heart-burnings in her joy at the humiliation of Stiff Neck George.

Leaving Virginia in the kitchen, to fry Wiley's steak, she rushed into the dining-room with her eyes ablaze and all but shook his hand.

"Well, well," she exulted, "I'll have to take it back--you certainly did boot him good. I said you were a coward but I was watching you through my spy-gla.s.s and I nearly died a-laughing. You just walked right up to him--and you were cursing him scandalous, I could tell by the look on your face--and then all at once you made a jump and gave him that awful kick. Oh, ho, ho; you know I've always said he looked like a man that was watching for a swift kick from behind; and now--after waiting all these years--oh, ho ho--you gave him what was coming to him!"

The Widow sat down and held her sides with laughter and Wiley's grim features, that had remained set and watchful, slowly relaxed to a flattered grin. He had indeed stood up to Stiff Neck George and booted him down the dump, so that the score of that night when he had been hunted like a rabbit was more than evened up; for George had sneaked up on an unarmed man and rolled down boulders from above, but he had outfaced him, man to man and gun to gun, and kicked him down the dump to boot. Yes, the Widow might well laugh, for it would be many a long day before Stiff Neck George heard the last of that affair.

"And old Blount," laughed the Widow, "he was right there and saw it--his own hired bully, and all. Say, now Wiley, tell me all about it--what did Blount have to say? Did he tell you it was all a mistake? Yes, that's what he tells everybody, every time he gets into trouble; but he can't make excuses to me. Do you know what he's done? He's tied up all my stock as security for eight hundred dollars! What's eight hundred dollars--I turned it all in to get the best of my diamonds out of p.a.w.n.

It made me feel so bad, seeing that diamond ring of yours; I just couldn't help getting them out. And now I'm flat and he's holding all my stock for a miserable little eight hundred dollars!"