“Better get ’em. What are your plans?” “A dozen people have been around to ask me for leases. I hardly know what to do. What do you think?” “The more men you get working there the better. You can’t afford to pay wages, so you’d better sign a lease. I wouldn’t give it to a single person, but to two or three in partnership. Tie ’em up tight. Have a good lawyer make the papers out, so that there isn’t anything left in doubt. Be sure you get the proper terms.” “And good leasers,” she suggested. “Yes, that’s important.” “Will you go with me when we’re arranging the lease?” she asked, a little shyly. “Glad to, of course.” They talked of Scot and his recovery to health, of Mollie’s joy in her baby, and of young Alexander Hugh himself, who was developing wonderful intelligence, if the letters of his mother were worthy of credence. In front of the Mammoth Saloon they met Ralph Dodson. He bowed, and Hugh answered his bow stiffly. Since the attempt on his brother’s life and the subsequent political campaign, McClintock did not pretend to anything but contempt for those of the name of Dodson. He acknowledged the salute only because he was with Vicky. The girl flushed angrily. “We’re not friends any more, but he keeps that smile of his working just the same,” she told Hugh. “I told him what I thought of the way they fight. He pretended to be amused, but he was furious when I asked him not to speak to me when we met. He’s really more dangerous than his brother.” “Yes, because he’s far abler.” Mrs. Budd met them at the front door and hustled Hugh quickly into the house. “I’ve just had a message from Jim. There’s a warrant out for your arrest. It’s for killin’ Sam Dutch, I expect. Who ever heard the like? But Jim’s got to serve it, he says. So I’m to hide you in the attic. When he comes he’ll look for you and won’t find you.” “What’s the use? If they’ve got a warrant out for me they’ll get me sooner or later. The verdict of the coroner’s jury was that Dutch came to his death at the hands of God. It’s some trick. They can’t make it stick.” “That’s what Jim says. It’s a trick. Irish Tom told him there is something in the air. He doesn’t know just what. But the Dodsons are back of it. So Jim says for you to lie low and see what happens.” “All right, Mrs. Budd. We’ll let Jim run this,” Hugh said. “I’m in the hands of my friends, like the willin’ candidates for office say they are.” “Supper’ll be ready in a little. I’ll have Bennie watch the road so as to give you time to get upstairs if any one comes. I expect you’re hungry.” “I’m always hungry when Mrs. Budd gives me an invitation to eat,” he answered, smiling. “She’s the best cook in Nevada, and a two-bit restaurant doesn’t draw me a-tall on those glad occasions.”