'Longstreet wants to spin you a little yarn.' said Howard. 'And if you will see him through, I imagine he's going to have a job open for you.' 'Mine, of course?' suggested Lee. 'Yes.' 'Have a cigar,' invited Lee. He produced a box from a desk drawer. 'See if I can guess where it is. Other side of Big Run?' Howard nodded. 'Who found it?' 'I did,' answered Longstreet. 'Yesterday.' 'Last Ridge country, then. H'm.' He rolled his cigar in his mouth idly. Then he sat bolt upright and leaned forward. 'How many people have you told about it already? A dozen?' It was little less than accusation, and Longstreet flushed. He was opening his lips to answer stiffly when Howard spoke for him. 'He is keeping it to himself. He has told no one but me.' Lee sank back in his chair, and when he spoke again it was in a careless, off-hand manner. 'Half an hour ago I saw Monte Devine. He came tearing down the street, hell-bent-for-election. Down at the saloon on the corner he picked up two men you know, Al. One of them was Jake Bettins and the other was Ed True. The three hit the pike at a regular two-forty clip for the Big Run road. Those birds don't go chasing around on a day like this just to get sunburn, do they?' Howard frowned. 'Monte Devine?' he muttered, staring at Lee. But Lee, instead of taking the trouble to give the necessary assurance again, turned his eyes upon Longstreet. 'Filed on your claim yet?' he demanded. 'Yes,' retorted Longstreet, feeling inexplicably ill at ease and shifting in his chair. 'Immediately.' 'That's good,' grunted Lee. 'But I would be squatting on my diggings with a shot-gun under my arm. Al, here, can tell you a few things about Monte Devine and his crowd.' 'Next to Lee,' said Howard, 'Devine knows the mining game from hackamore to hoof. And he's a treacherous hound and a Jim Courtot man.' 'You said it, boy,' grunted Pony Lee. 'He's all of that. And he's no nickel shooter, either. If the game ain't big, he won't chip in.' 'But,' continued Howard, 'I guess you've doped it up wrong, Pony. Chances are they've got something else up their sleeves. They couldn't possibly have dropped on to Longstreet's find.' For a full minute Lee's eyes bored into Longstreet's. Then he spoke dryly: 'As long's the desert wind blows, word of a strike will go with it. Maybe I have got the wrong end of it.' He shrugged loosely. 'I've done that sort of thing now and then. But I got one more thing to spill. Sanchia Murray's in town. Or she was a little while ago.' Again he fixed his shrewd eyes upon Longstreet's tell-tale face, which slowly reddened. Pony Lee grunted and at last lighted his cigar. Howard, with a look of sheer amazement, stared at Helen's father. 'You didn't tell Sanchia?' he gasped.