"I ain't set sugar in it, Bill," she said sweetly, and reached towards the sugar-bowl.

But the man pushed her arm roughly aside.

"Oh, skip!" he cried. "You make me sick."

His bearishness in no way disconcerted the girl. She persisted, and dropped two spoonfuls of granulated sugar into his cup.

"Some folks need sugar," she remarked, with another giggle, as she moved away. And somehow it was Bill who had suffered loss of dignity.

This only helped to aggravate his mood, and he turned his small eyes sharply on Sandy.

"I'm needin' someone to work a claim fer me," he said in a voice intended to reach every ear, and as he spoke a curious look came into his eyes. It was half a grin, half a challenge, and wholly meant mischief.

The effect was exactly as he had calculated. The entire attention of the room was on him at once, and he warmed as he waited for Sandy's reply.

"You--you got a claim?" the widower inquired blankly.

Bill licked his lips after devouring a mouthful of pie.

"An' why in h.e.l.l not?" he retorted.

Before Sandy could gather an adequate reply, the matter was taken up by a young miner further down the table.

"Wher' you got it, Bill?" he inquired, with genuine interest.

The gambler swallowed another mouthful of pie, and rammed the rim of crust into his cheek with his thumb, and leisurely devoured it before replying.

"I don't see that my claim has anything to do wi' the company present," he said at last, with a dangerous look in his half-grinning eyes. "But, seein' Mr. Joe Brand is kind o' curious, guess he may as well know first as last."

"I didn't mean no offense, Bill," apologized the miner, flushing and speaking hurriedly.

Bill promptly became sarcastic.

"Course you didn't. Folks b.u.t.tin' in never don't mean no offense.

Howsum, guess my claim's on the banks o' Sufferin' Creek. Maybe you feel better now?" He glared down the table, but finally turned again to Sandy. "You ain't pertickler busy 'bout now, so--ther's thirty dollars a week says you ken hev the job. An' I'll give you a percentage o' the gold you wash up," he added dryly. "You on?"

Sandy nodded. He didn't quite understand his friend's game. This was the first he had heard of Bill having acquired a claim--and on the river, too. There was only one other man on the river, and--well, Zip's claim was the joke of the camp.

He had just formulated a question in his mind, when the words were taken out of his mouth by a heavy-faced prospector further down the table.

"Wher' 'bouts on the Creek, Bill?" he inquired.

The gambler eyed him intently.

"Quite a piece up," he said shortly.

A half-smile spread over the prospector's face.

"Not nigh--Zip's?" he suggested.

The half-grin in Bill's eyes was becoming more savage.

"Yep--an' I bought it."

His information increased the interest with a bound. Every man there knew, or believed, that Zip's claim was the only one on the Creek.

"I didn't know there was any other but Zip's," said Joe Brand, his interest outrunning his discretion.

"Ah, you b.u.t.tin' in again," sneered Bill. "Guess you know right, too.

Ther' ain't."

It was curious to glance down at the double row of faces lining the table and note the perplexity which suddenly gathered on them. Bill saw it and enjoyed it. It suited his mood. Finally the heavy-faced prospector blurted out the question that was in everybody's mind, yet which the others dared not ask.

"You--you bought Zip's claim?" he asked incredulously.

"Ha'f of it. Me an' Zip's partners. You got anything to say?"

Bill's words rapped out with biting force, and Sandy, knowing the man, waited, solemn-eyed. Just for one moment astonishment held his audience breathless. Then some one sn.i.g.g.e.red, and it became the cue for an instantaneous and general guffaw of derision. Every face was wreathed in a broad grin. The humor of this thing was too much. Zip's claim! Bill, the keen, unscrupulous gambler, had fallen for Zip's mud-hole on the banks of Suffering Creek!

Bill waited. The laugh was what he needed, so he waited till it died out. As it did so he kicked back his chair and stood up, his tall figure and hard face a picture of cold challenge.

"You're that merry, folks," he said, his teeth clipping each word, "that maybe some o' you got something to say. I'd like to hear it.

No?" as he waited. But no one seemed anxious to comment. "Joe Brand kind o' seems fond o' b.u.t.tin' in--mebbe he'll oblige."

But the young miner was not to be drawn. Bill shrugged his lean shoulders, his fierce eyes alight with a dangerous fire.

"Wal," he went on, "I don't guess I ken make folks talk if they don't notion it. But I want to say right here I bought ha'f o' Zip's claim fer good dollars, an' I'm goin' to pay Sandy Joyce a tiptop wage fer workin' my share. An'"--he paused and glanced swiftly and defiantly at the faces which were no longer smiling--"an' I want to say I bought the richest lay-out in this b.u.m camp. Any feller who ain't o' the same opinion ken git right up on to his hind legs an' call me a 'liar'--an'

I'm jest yearnin' fer some feller to git around an' call me that. Jest turn it over in your fool heads. You don't need to hurry any. Ther's days an' days to come, an' at any time I'll be glad fer all o' you to come along an' tell me I'm--a liar."

He paused, his fierce eyes gleaming. He felt good. His outburst had relieved his pent feelings. It was a safety-valve which had worked satisfactorily at the right moment. But as he received no answer to his challenge he turned to Sandy.

"Ther' don't seem to be nuthin' doin'," he said, with a grim smile.

"So ef you'll come right along we'll fix things out in the store.

Guess you ken finish your hash after."

Sandy rose. For a moment Bill did not attempt to move. It was as though he were giving the rest of the boarders one last chance of accepting his challenge. But as no one offered any comment or made any attempt to stay him, he turned away at last with a sigh which was probably of disappointment, and led the way out into the store.

But if the men had made no comment in his presence, it was a different matter after his departure. Loud indignation broke out, and fierce, if impotent, protest pa.s.sed from lip to lip. It was only for a few moments, however, and presently anger gave place to a realization of the absurdity of the whole thing.

The humor of these men was tickled. The whole thing was too ludicrous for words. To think that Wild Bill, the renowned sharp, the shrewdest, the wisest man on Suffering Creek, had fallen for such a proposition!

It was certainly the funniest, the best joke that had ever come their way. How had it happened? they asked each other. Had Zip been clever enough to "salt" his claim? It was hardly likely. Only they knew he was hard up, and it was just possible, with his responsibilities weighing heavily on him, he had resorted to an illicit practice to realize on his property. They thought of and discussed every possible means they could think of by which Bill could have been lured to the hook--and caught--and landed. That was the joke. It was astounding. It was too good. To-morrow the whole camp would be ringing with laughter at the news, but--but the laughter was not likely to reach the gambler's ears.

In the meantime it was quite a different man who was lounging over Minky's counter talking to Sandy and the storekeeper. Bill had relieved the pressure of his mood for the moment, and now, like a momentarily exhausted volcano, he was enjoying the calm of reaction.

"I'll need you to start work right away," he was saying, "an' you ken draw on me fer all the supplies you need. It's a dandy claim," he went on grimly, "but I don't know fer sure what you'll likely find on it.

Maybe you'll find suthin'--if you work long enough. Anyways, you'll start by sinkin' a shaft; an' you'll kep on sinkin' it till--till I tell you to quit."

"But that ain't the regular way gold--"