“Aye. You were far gone in liquor then—by the looks of you. You’ll mind I say ‘by the looks of you.’ You are not in liquor now. That’s what puzzled. A man does not throw off a load of hooch so quickly. You were playing at being drunk. Now, why might that be?” “To enable me to get into his hole and leave Moir thinking I’m a drunken squaw-man without brains or nerve enough to do anything but sponge for hooch.” “Aye? And your reason for that?” “My reason for that?” Reivers laughed under his breath. “Why, did you ever hear of a more popular reason for a man risking his throat than gold? I heard the story of this deal from your brother Duncan and your daughter. I need—or rather, I want money. Shanty Moir had won over you and had gold. I came to win over Moir and get the gold away from him. Isn’t that simple?” “Simple and spoken well,” said MacGregor calmly. “Will you answer me one question: Did you serve notice on my brother Duncan that you were out on this hunt?” “I did.” “Fair enough again. A man has a right to take trail and do what he can if he speaks out fair. I take it you hardly calculated to find me here alive?” “No, I didn’t think Moir was such an amateur as to take any chances.” “Ah, he needed a draft beast, lad; that’s why I’m alive, and no other reason. And finding me here alive, does it alter your plans any?” “Only a trifle. You see, I’d made up my mind to bring Moir and your daughter Hattie face to face to see if she could make good on her big talk of taking revenge for putting you out of business. Now that I see you’re still alive—well, I won’t let any little foolishness like that interfere with the business I’ve come on.” “I mean about the gold, man?” Reivers looked at his questioner in surprise. “About the gold?” he repeated. “Yes. Finding me, the rightful owner of half of the gold, here, alive and hoping to win back with my share to my daughter Hattie—does it make any change in your plans?” Reivers chuckled softly. “Not in the slightest,” he replied. “I came to get the stuff that’s come out of this mine. Take a look at me. Do I look like a soft fool who’d let anything interfere with my plans?” MacGregor looked and shook his head, puzzled. “I dinna understand ye, mon,” he said. “I canna make you out. By the look of you I’d be wishful to strike hands with you as one good man to another; but your talk, man, is all wrong, all wrong. Half of the stuff that’s been taken out of this mine—Shanty Moir’s half—I have made up my mind shall be yours for the strong blow you dealt to save my Hattie from black shame. Will you na’ strike hands on a partnership like that between us?” Reivers yawned. “Why should I? You’re ‘all in.’ You can’t help me any. I’ll have to do the job of getting the gold away from Moir. I came here to get it all. I don’t want any help, and I certainly won’t make any unnecessary split.”