Beth Norvell

He got to his feet, his obstinate old eyes wandering across the gully,

and the younger man watched him with slow curiosity.

"How f-f-far you g-g-going, Bill?" he burst forth stutteringly.

"Denver, if I need to," was the elder's resolute, response. "I 'll

tell ye what I 'm a-goin' ter do, Stutter. I 'm a-goin' ter draw out

every blamed cent we 've got in the bank down at San Juan. 'T ain't

much of a pile, but I reckon it's got ter do the business. Then I 'll

strike out an' hunt till I find a minin' engineer thet 's got a soul of

his own, an' grit 'nough behind it ter root out the facts. I 've been

a-prospecttn' through these here mountings fer thirty years, an' now

thet I 've hit somethin' worth havin', I 'm hanged if I 'm a-goin' ter

lie down meek ez Moses an' see it stole out plumb from under me by a

parcel o' tin-horn gamblers. Not me, by God! If I can't git a cinch

on sich a feller ez I want, then I 'll come back an' blow a hole

through that Farnham down at San Juan. I reckon I 'll go in an' tell

him so afore I start."

The old man's square jaws set ominously, his gnarled hand dropping

heavily on the butt of the Colt dangling at his hip.

"You stay right yere, Stutter, on the dump, and don't yer let one o'

them measly sneaks put nary foot on our claim, if yer have ter blow 'em

plumb ter hell. You an' Mike kin tend ter thet all right, an' you bet

I 'm goin' ter have some news fer yer when I git home, my boy."

He swung around, and strode back along the ledge to the door of the

cabin, reappearing scarcely a moment later with a small bundle in his

hand.

"Thar 's 'nough grub in thar ter last you an' Mike fer a week yit, an'

I 'll be back afore then, er else planted. Adios."

Brown sat up, his gun resting between his knees, and in silence watched

his partner scrambling down the steep trail. It was not easy for him

to converse, and he therefore never uttered a word unless the situation

demanded the sacrifice. He could swear, however, with considerable

fluency, but just now even that relief seemed inadequate. Finally, the

older man disappeared behind the scrub, and, except for those more

distant figures about the dump of the "Independence," the blond giant

remained apparently alone. But Stutter had long ago become habituated

to loneliness; the one condition likely to worry him was lack of

occupation. He scrambled to his feet and climbed the dump, until able

to lean far over and look down into the black mouth of the uncovered

shaft.