"Oh, I do, do I?" retorted Denver, "well, all right pardner, if you say so; but you don't need to call me a liar!"

He returned the guard's glare with an insulting sneer and Murray made haste to intercede.

"Now, now," he said, "let's not have any trouble. But of course you've no business on this ground."

"That's all right," defended Denver, "that don't give him a license to pull any ranicky stuff. I'm as peaceable as anybody, but you can tell your hired man he don't look bad to me."

"That will do, Dave," nodded Murray and after another look at Denver, the guard turned back towards the tent.

"Judas priest," observed Denver thrusting out his lip at the guard, "he's a regular gun-fighting boy. You must have something pretty good hid away here somewhere, to call for a guard like that."

"He's a dangerous man," replied Murray briefly, "I'd advise you not to rouse him. But what do you think of our district, Mister--er----"

"Russell," said Denver promptly, "my name is Denver Russell. I just came over from Globe."

"Glad to meet you," answered Murray extending a hairy hand, "my name is B. B. Murray. I'm the owner of all this ground."

"'S that so?" murmured Denver, "well don't let me keep you."

And he started off down the trail.

"Hey, wait a minute!" protested Murray, "you don't need to go off mad.

Sit down here in the shade--I want to have a talk with you."

He stepped over to the shade of an abandoned cabin and Denver followed reluctantly. From the few leading questions which Mr. Murray had propounded he judged he was a hard man to evade; and, until he had got t.i.tle to the claim on Queen Creek, it was advisable not to talk too much.

"So you're just over from Globe, eh?" began Murray affably, "well, how are things over in that camp? Yes, I hear they are booming--were you working in the mines? What do you think of this country for copper?"

"It sure looks _good_!" p.r.o.nounced Denver unctuously, "I never saw a place that looked better. All this gossan and porphyry, and that copper stain up there--and just look at that dacite cap!"

He waved his hand at the high cliff behind and Murray's eye became beady and bright.

"Yes," he said rubbing his h.o.r.n.y hands together and gazing at Denver benevolently, "we think the indications are good--were you thinking of locating in these parts?"

"No, just going through," answered Denver slowly. "I was camping by the crick and saw that copper-stain, so I thought I'd follow it up. How far are you down with your drill?"

"Quite a ways, quite a ways," responded Murray evasively. "You don't look like an ordinary prospector--who'd you say it was you were working for?"

Denver turned and looked at him, and grunted contemptuously.

"J. P. Morgan," he said and after a silence Murray answered with a thin-lipped smile.

"That's all right, that's all right," he said with a cackle. "No hard feeling--I just wanted to know. You're an honest young man, but there are others who are not, and we naturally like to inquire. Are you staying with Mr. Hill?"

"Well, not so you'd notice it," replied Denver brusquely. "I'm camped in that cave across the crick."

"Oh, is that so?" purred Murray driving relentlessly on in his quest for information, "did he show you any of his claims?"

"He showed me one," answered Denver and, try as he would, he could not keep his voice from changing.

"Oh, I see," said Murray suddenly smiling triumphantly, "he showed you that claim by the creek."

"That's the one," admitted Denver, "and it sure looked good. Have you got any interests over there?"

"Not at present," returned Murray with a touch of asperity, "but let me tell you a little about that claim. You're a stranger in these parts and it's only fair to warn you that the a.s.sessment work has never been done.

He has no t.i.tle, according to law; so you can govern your actions accordingly."

"You mean," suggested Denver, "that all I have to do is to go in and jump the claim?"

"h.e.l.l--no!" exclaimed Bible-Back startled out of his piosity. "I mean that you had better not buy it."

"Well, thanks," drawled Denver, "this is danged considerate of you.

Shall I tell him you'll take it yourself?"

"Certainly not!" snapped back Murray, "I've enough claims, already. I'm just warning you for your own good."

"Danged considerate," repeated Denver with a sarcastic smile, "and now let me ask _you_ something. Who told you I wanted to buy?"

"Never mind!" returned Murray, "I've warned you, and that is enough."

"Well, all right," agreed Denver, "but if you don't want it yourself----"

"Young man!" exclaimed Murray suddenly rising to his feet and crooking his neck like a crane, "I guess you know who I am. I can make or break any man in this country, and I'm telling you now--don't you buy!"

"I get you," answered Denver, and without arguing the point he rose up and went down the trail.

CHAPTER X

SIGNS AND OMENS

When a man like Bible-Back Murray, the biggest man in the country--a sheep-owner, a store-keeper, a political power--goes out of his way to break up a trade there is something significant behind it. Denver had come to Pinal in response to a prophecy, in search of two hidden treasures between which he must make his choice; and now, added to that, was the further question of whether he should venture to oppose Murray.

If he did, he could proceed in the spirit of the prophecy and choose between the silver and gold treasures; but if he did not there would be no real choice at all, but simply an elimination. He must turn away from the silver treasure, that precious vein of metal which led so temptingly into the hill, and take the little stringer of quartz which the Professor had offered as a gold mine. Denver thought it all over out in front of his cave that night and at last he came back to the prophecy.

"Courage and constancy," it said, "will attend you through life, but in the end will prove your undoing, for you will meet your death at the hands of your dearest friend."

Denver's heart fell again at the thought of that hard fate but it did not divert him from his purpose. Mother Trigedgo had said that he should be brave, nevertheless--very well then, he would dare oppose Murray. But now to choose between the two, between the Professor's stringer of gold and Bunker's vein of silver--with the ill will of Murray attached.

Denver pondered them well and at last he lit a candle and referred it to Napoleon's Oraculum.

In the front of the Book of Fate were thirty-two questions the answers to which, on the succeeding pages, would give counsel on every problem of life. The questions, at first sight, seemed more adapted to love-sick swains than to the practical problem before Denver, but he came back to number nine.

"Shall I be SUCCESSFUL in my present undertaking?"

All he had to do was to decide to buy the silver claim and then put the matter to the test. He spread a sheet of fair paper on the clear corner of his table and made five rows of short lines across it, each containing more than the requisite twelve marks. Then he counted each row and, opposite every one that came even, he placed two dots; opposite every line that came odd, one dot. This made a series of five dots, one above the other, of which the first two were double and the last three single, and he turned to the fateful Key.

It was spread across two pages, a solid ma.s.s of signs and letters, arranged in a curious order; and along the side were the numbers of the questions, across the top the different combinations of dots. Against the thirty-two questions there were thirty-two combinations in which the odd and even dots could be arranged, and Denver's series was the seventh in order. The number of his question was nine. Where the seventh line from the side met the ninth from the top there occurred the letter O.