“Nothin’, I guess. Only I want yuh to know we’re wise to you. You mighta come out with it, ’stid of lyin’ and beatin’ about the bush, that’s all. Any fool can see you two’re close related. I seen it first thing, and so did Gladys.” “Is it anybody’s business, besides his and mine?” Peter’s voice was still calm, though it boded ill for Young Jess if he did not watch his tongue. “Can’t say as it is,” Young Jess admitted. “Mebby his mother might think it was _her_ business--whoever she is.” “Leave my mother out of this,” Rawley cried hotly. “She’s not--” “Aw, what the hell do I care?” Young Jess rose and hitched up his sagging breeches. “Yuh can’t fool me--that’s all. And I will say I ain’t afraid to have yuh go ahead and look the works over. My own _nephew_ wouldn’t double-cross his paw’s family, I guess.” He left them, turning his head once to grin knowingly over his shoulder. Old Jess mumbled a general curse on all family ties, or anything that would interfere with his getting the gold out of the river, and followed. Ten steps away he saw what he believed to be a joke and went off cackling, “Pete’s own son! he-he!” Nevada shivered and pulled herself free from her Uncle Peter’s arms. Her lips were pressed rather firmly together, and she avoided looking at either of the men. “Well, you were the first to notice the likeness, Nevada,” Peter reminded her banteringly. “And you were the first to--no, my _cousin_ was the first to lie to me about it!” Her voice was coldly disapproving. “I’m very sorry--I did think that I was worthy your full confidence, Uncle Peter. It seems that I have been mistaken all along. You have only pretended to trust me, and all these years--though that in itself doesn’t so much matter, since there may have been good reason for keeping the secret, even from me. But when my--_cousin_ came here, you must have known immediately who he was, Uncle Peter. It is that which hurts. You pretended to me that you never had seen him before, and that you were not quite willing that he should stay. And he--oh, I hate you both!” Her voice broke quite unexpectedly. She gave an impatient, spurning gesture and fled. Peter got out the solacing “makings” of a cigarette. He glanced at Rawley queerly and gave a cynical smile. “Talk about the beautiful faith of your own people,” he remarked philosophically. “Here’s a sample for you. Even Nevada believes right away that I have lived a double life.” “It makes it damned awkward--this resemblance,” Rawley muttered ruefully. “Young Jess ought to have his block knocked off.” “Dynamite wouldn’t feaze Young Jess,” Peter declared. “He and Gladys have cooked this up between them. ’Twouldn’t have done any good to deny it, son. They wouldn’t believe it unless it suited them. And if I convinced them, they’d want to know more than ever why we look so much alike. Poor old mother--I was thinking of her. I hope you don’t mind?”