"Say, whose claim is it? Am I payin' you or not?" demanded the gambler sharply.

"Sure you are, but you said it was the richest--"

"That was back ther' at supper," said Bill coldly. "Guess supper's over."

Sandy had no quickness of understanding. He did not appreciate the fineness of the distinction. He shook his head solemnly.

"Maybe I ain't jest bright enuff to foller--"

"You ain't," agreed Bill shortly.

He winked at Minky, who was listening interestedly. Then he turned abruptly and pointed at the array of patent medicines adorning one of the shelves.

"Say," he cried, "'bout them physics."

Minky turned and gazed affectionately at the shelf. It was the pride of his store. He always kept it well dusted and dressed. The delicate wrappings and fancy labels always had a strong fascination for him.

Then there were the curative possibilities of the contents of the inviting packages as set forth by the insistent "drummer" who sold them to him.

"An elegant stock," he murmured. "Sort of concentrated health." Then he glanced round anxiously. "Your hosses ain't ailin'?" he inquired.

"I got most everything fer hosses. Ther's embrocation, hoss iles, every sort of lin'ments. Hoss b.a.l.l.s? Linseed?"

The gambler shook his head.

"You ain't got physic fer men-folk?" he inquired.

"I sure have. But--but you ain't sick?" Minky eyed his friend narrowly.

Bill's mouth twisted wryly.

"I ain't jest sick," he replied. "But," he added hopefully, "you can't never be sure."

Minky nodded.

"That's so. I'd say you don't look a heap sick, though."

"You sure don't," agreed Sandy. "But, as you sez, you can't never tell. Now, you buyin' ha'f Zip's claim makes--" His words died down to a thoughtful murmur. Bill's look was somehow discouraging as he pointed at the medicine.

"What you got?" he demanded abruptly.

"Why, most everything," said Minky. "Ther', you see that longish bottle? That's a dandy cough cure. Guess you ain't needin' that? No?

Ah!" as Bill shook his head, "I didn't guess you'd a cough. Corns?

Now, this yer packet is an elegant fixin' fer corns, soft an' hard. It jest kills 'em stone dead, sure. It's bully stuff, but 'tain't good fer eatin'. You ain't got corns?" he inquired, as Bill again shook his head. "Ah, seems a pity." He turned again to the shelf, determined, if possible, to suit his customer, and lifted down a number of packets and sealed bottles. "Now, here," he cried, holding up a dainty box tied up with a delicate-colored ribbon. For a moment his audience believed it to be candy, but he quickly undeceived them. "Now this yer is dandy truck, though I don't guess ther's a heap o' use fer it on Suffering Creek. It's fer softening alkali water. When the drummer told me that, I guessed to him ther wa'an't a heap o' water drunk in this camp. But he said it wa'an't fer drinkin' water; it was fer baths. I kind o' told him that wouldn't help the sale any, so he said it could be used fer washin'. Seein' he couldn't sell me any that way neither, he got riled an' give me a present of it, an' said he guessed Sufferin' Creek _did_ use water fer washing gold. Y'see, its price is a dollar an' a ha'f, but, seein' it's kind o' dead stock, you ken have it a present."

Bill took it.

"It's mine," he said. And Sandy watched him with some concern.

"You--you ain't takin' a bath?" he inquired nervously.

"Don't talk foolish," cried Bill, and turned again to his scrutiny of the shelf. "What else you got? Any stummick physic?"

"Sure." Minky held up a small bottle of tabloids. "Camel-h.e.l.l," he said, with the a.s.surance of a man who knows the worth of the article he is offering for sale. "Now this yer is Camel-h.e.l.l--C-a-l-o-m-e-l.

And I'd sure say the name is appropriate. That doggone 'drummer'

feller said ther' was enough in one o' them bottles to kep the stummicks of a whole blamed menagerie right fer six months. It's real dandy--"

He broke off suddenly, and his look of enthusiasm was abruptly replaced by one of anxious interest that bordered closely on apprehension. His audience realized the change, and both men glanced swiftly in the direction whence the storekeeper's gaze had become so suddenly concentrated. Instantly they became aware that two strangers had quietly entered the store, and had taken their places at one of the tables under the open window.

Bill thought he recognized one of the men, but was not sure where he had seen him. Sandy saw nothing remarkable in their presence, and at once turned back to the counter.

"More of 'em," said Minky in a low tone, when finally Bill turned back to him.

"Yes. Many while I bin away?"

"Four or five. All--come along fer a game--it seems." Minky's eyes were brooding.

Suddenly a light of intelligence sprang into Bill's thoughtful face.

"Ah, I remember one o' them. I see him in Sp.a.w.n City--in a b.u.m gamblin' dive."

Sandy suddenly roused to a keen interest.

"Them strangers," he said--"that 'minds me I was talkin' to one last night. He was askin' me when a stage was running from here."

"What d'you tell him?" demanded Bill quickly, and Minky's eyes asked the question too.

Sandy laughed conceitedly.

"I sure said ther' wa'an't no stages runnin', with James' gang around. I wa'an't goin' to give nuthin' away to strangers. Y'see, if I'd pretended we was sendin' out stages, we'd have that gang hangin' around waitin'. 'Tain't no use in gatherin' wasps around a m'la.s.ses-pot."

"No. You didn't tell him nuthin' else?" Bill inquired, eyeing him shrewdly.

"I did that," said Sandy triumphantly. "I filled him up good. I jest told him we was wise to James an' his gang, an' was takin' no chances, seein' Sufferin' Creek was such a rich lay-out. I told him we was bankin' up the gold right here, an' holdin' it till the pile was so big we could claim a Gover'ment escort that could snap their fingers at James an' his lay-out."

A swift exchange of glances pa.s.sed between the gambler and the storekeeper. And then, in a quiet voice, Bill demanded--

"Anything else?"

"Nothing o' consequence," replied Sandy, feeling he had acquitted himself well. "He jest asted if Minky here banked the stuff, an' I 'lowed he did."

"Ah!" There was an ominous sparkle in Bill's eyes as he breathed his e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n. Then, with a quiet sarcasm quite lost on the obtuse widower, "You'd make an elegant sheriff's officer. You'd raise h.e.l.l with the crooks."

Sandy appeared pleased with what he took for praise.

"I'd show 'em some--"

But Bill had turned to the storekeeper.

"We've got to git doin'. I've heerd a heap in Sp.a.w.n City. Anyway, it was bound to git around. What he's said don't matter a heap. What I've heerd tells me we've got to git busy quick. We've got to clean you out of--stuff, or ther's goin' to be a most outrageous unhealthy time on Sufferin' Creek. We'll fix things to-morrer. Bein' Sunday," he added grimly, "it'll be an elegant day fer settin' things right. Meanwhiles, I'll ast you to fix me a parcel o' them physics, jest some of each, an' you ken git Sunny Oak to pa.s.s 'em right on to Zip fer his kids.

Guess they'll worry out how best to dose 'em right."