"Very well, madam, very well," he returned, stiffly. "You may depend upon it, there will be no more trouble-unless I meet this man the other side of your property line."

"You won't," said Mrs. Crump, grimly. "Come on in and set to dinner.

Gilbert, you done? Then call that there driver to come up and have a bite, will ye? No words out'n you, neither, Sandy Mackintavers. Gents, come inside an' smoke up and entertain Mr. Premble. I'll get them 'tatoes het up in a mite."

First to enter the shack was James Z. Premble. He pa.s.sed Mackintavers, standing at the door, and glared at him. Then, as he pa.s.sed on into the shack, the features of Mr. Premble relaxed into the fleetest and most momentary shadow of a grin.

CHAPTER XVI-DORALES POSTS NOTICES

The excitement caused by the arrival of James Z. Premble caused everyone to forget the horseman who had been seen approaching from the north. And Mr. Premble, somewhat against his inmost desire, continued for a time to fill the centre of the picture.

The a.s.semblage quite filled the shack-crowded it, in fact. Premble, the New Yorker, barely paused for introductions before diving into the food that Mrs. Crump set before him. Lewis sat and smoked in the lean-to, by the stove; Gilbert lounged beside the door. Mackintavers sat in the corner, chewing a cigar. Coravel Tio was rolling a cigarette with great care, and sighed a little as he licked it; leaning forward, he scratched a match upon the floor, and took advantage of a pause in the conversation to address James Z. Premble.

"An odd name, senor," he said, softly. "A very odd name! I have never met any one whose initial was that of Z. May I ask what name it stands for, senor?"

Mr. Premble looked at his questioner, and in his shrewd eyes there showed a swift and sudden hesitation; but Coravel Tio was lighting his cigarette with much absorption.

"Zacariah," responded the New Yorker. "I don't like the name, myself.

Never use it."

"Ah, yes! Now that I remember, I have met others-there is a name Zebulon, I think, eh? Yes, Zebulon. So you are the gentleman of whom your firm wrote me, eh? I am glad to meet you, senor, very glad. You have letters and so forth? You see, I am part owner of this property, senor, and while I do not doubt you in the least, I desire to make quite sure of things before talking business."

Laying down his knife and fork, Premble once again inspected Coravel Tio, who was now looking directly at him. Something in those gentle, mournful black eyes seemed to cause the city man uneasiness and disquiet. He reached into his pocket, nodding.

"Eh? Sure, I have plenty of papers that will establish my ident.i.ty and prove my authority to deal with you. A little bit hasty, aren't you? No trouble, though. Glad to have you a.s.sure yourself--"

He produced a sheaf of papers and pa.s.sed them intact, as though entirely certain of their contents, to Mrs. Crump. That lady, her keen blue eyes suddenly perplexed and watchful, handed on the papers to Coravel Tio.

The latter, in silence, began to unfold and look at them, one after another. Premble continued his meal, and fell to talking with the others.

Presently Coravel Tio came to the end of his cigarette. He rose and tossed the b.u.t.t through the open doorway, where Gilbert was lounging.

His eyes snapped a message to those of Gilbert; in turn, Gilbert made a slight motion. Lewis rose and shoved aside the curtain from the window, as though desiring more air, and then stood watching.

Coravel Tio returned to his stool. At another pause in the conversation, he tapped the refolded doc.u.ments on his knee.

"These are all correct, Mr. Premble," he said, gently. "Do you know-ah, there is something that puzzles me! Now, when I had the pleasure of meeting you in Las Vegas last month, your name was different; it was Zebulon and not Zacariah. And you looked different, senor. Then, if I remember rightly, you wore a moustache, and your eyes were another colour, and you had a stronger chin than you have at present."

A sudden tense silence had come upon the room. James Z. Premble looked very red, then his features paled again. Imperceptibly, his right hand fluttered toward his left armpit.

"Don't do it!" said Lewis, from the window, and Mr. Premble gazed into the muzzle of a revolver. And: "Go slow!" said Gilbert, from the doorway, carelessly fondling another revolver. Mr. James Z. Premble set both hands upon the table in front of him.

The chauffeur, seeing the general trend of events, quietly slid from his stool and vanished beneath the table. Mrs. Crump sat motionless, looking from one person to another. Sandy Mackintavers swallowed hard and made as if to rise, but Lewis shifted eyes and weapon slightly, and Sandy changed his mind about moving.

"I was afraid of something like this." The voice of Coravel Tio was gently apologetic. "You see, the real James Zebulon Premble always keeps his engagements to the minute-unless something has happened to him. He is now two days overdue here. Of course, it would be possible for another man to waylay him and to obtain his papers; it would be quite possible for that other man to come here under the name of Premble, and to carry out a slight business transaction."

"Smooth guy, aren't you?" sneered Premble. "You'll have a h.e.l.l of a time proving anything on me!"

"My dear senor, _I_ don't want to prove anything on you!" said Coravel Tio in pained surprise. "No, no, far from it! But I suspect that a certain firm by the name of the Williams Manufacturing Company, a firm that is very jealous of its reputation, might like to know that you are in its employ. _Si!_ Of course, you'll not reveal to us for whom you are working?"

"I've nothing to say," sullenly returned Premble. He looked much perturbed.

"Very well. Gilbert, take the gun from the senor's left armpit and lead him to his automobile. Tie him in his automobile and allow him to repose in peaceful meditation. That is all. Young man, kindly come from beneath the table and resume your meal!"

The chauffeur, looking sheepish, crawled into view again. Gilbert fulfilled the orders that had been given him, and departed with Mr.

Premble.

Sandy Mackintavers, although trying to appear impa.s.sive and unconcerned, signally failed in his endeavour. He was completely astounded, swept off his feet, by the falling of Coravel Tio's mask. He was suddenly aware of the fact that in Coravel Tio he had a d.a.m.nably clever antagonist.

Now, too late, Sandy began to suspect a thousand things that did not appear on the surface. Conjectures flitted through his brain. Suspicion that the hand of Coravel Tio was a very powerful hand, and that this hand was set against him, deepened into hard certainty. Yet-not even Coravel Tio could know the truth! No one could know that Mackintavers and the false Premble were friends, were working in concert! There was yet hope.

"Aiblins, now, there's no tellin' about these mining sharks!" observed Sandy in righteous accents. "I've had experiences of my own in that line, aye! But if you're willing to talk over the proposition we discussed last night--"

Coravel Tio looked at him. Coravel Tio laughed gently, softly, very acridly.

"My dear senor!" he said. "You knew about the real Premble and his business here. Your friend met the real Premble and did his work very well. You planned things nicely. You came and made us your proposition, knowing that we would refuse it, knowing that we would be a.s.sured that you and Premble were at enmity; knowing that we would sell out to Senor Premble-eh? And Premble would buy the mine for you. Ah, yes!

"It was very cleverly planned, and very well executed. But now, senor, you had better go and sit beside your friend, and be driven back to town with him. There I think that you will receive some interesting information. I would like to tell you about it myself, but--"

At this point Mrs. Crump came to her feet. She understood the whole trick at last, she understood the deep cunning of Mackintavers, and she was white with fury.

"Coravel Tio, this skunk sure makes me blush to see him! Now, I aim to give him a right good hidin', which same he deserves plenty. Get outside, ye coyote-hustle!"

From the wall Mrs. Crump seized her trusty blacksnake. Thoroughly alarmed, Mackintavers attempted no protests but backed through the doorway. Before the lady, however, uprose Coravel Tio, and his hand restrained her from pursuit.

"No," he said, softly, looking into her eyes. "I have reasons, senora; good reasons."

Mrs. Crump flushed, then paled again. Restraint came hard to her.

"I aim to punish him," she rasped.

"That is already arranged." Coravel Tio smiled at her. "That has been arranged-by the G.o.ds of the San Marcos. You will, please, leave everything in my hands, senora. Everything! I wish to handle everything here to-day. Everything!"

Mrs. Crump stared at him, puzzled. Then she tossed away the whip.

"All right," she a.s.sented, sullenly, angrily. "I won't say another d.a.m.ned word."

By this time, Mackintavers was somewhere outside. Lewis still stood by the window. Gilbert was presumably down at the automobiles with his prisoner.

But now the voice of Gilbert came to them. It was lifted in a shout of surprise, a shout of aggrieved anger and amazement.

"Hey! Hey, you feller! What the h.e.l.l you doin' there? Hey, Mis' Crump!

Hustle out here!"

Those in the shack hastened outside-all except the chauffeur. Scenting further trouble, that gentleman grabbed his plate and again retired beneath the table, to finish his meal in security.

As Mrs. Crump, standing out in the sunlight, surveyed the situation, she became aware that the previously discerned horseback rider had arrived.