Then he drew out a pipe and began to cut flakes of tobacco from a black plug. "See here, Minky," he went on, after a moment's pause. "You need to do some thinkin'. How much dust have you got in the store?" "'Bout twenty thousand dollars." "Whew!" Bill whistled softly as he packed the tobacco in his pipe. "An elegant parcel for strangers to handle." The storekeeper's face became further troubled. "It sure is--if they handle it." "Jest so." Bill's pipe was alight now, and he puffed at it vigorously, speaking between the puffs. "Y'see, this feller James plays a big game. Cattle duffin' and ord'n'ry stage-robbin' ain't good enough, nor big enough, to run his gang on. He needs gold stages, and we ain't sendin' gold stages out. Wal, wot's the conclusion? I ast you?" "He'll hev to light out, or--" "Jest so. Or he'll get around here to--look into things. Those strangers last night were mebbe 'lookin' into things.' You'll need to stow that dust where the rats can't gnaw it. Later we'll think things out. Meanwhile there's one thing sure, we don't need strangers on Suffering Creek. There's enough o' the boys around to work the gold, an' when they get it they mostly know what to do with it. Guess I'll get on up to Zip's shack." The two men walked out into the store. Minky in a pessimistic mood passed in behind his counter. This question of gold had bothered him for some weeks. Since the first stage-robbing, and James' name had become a "terror" in the district, he had opened a sort of banking business for the prospectors. Commercially it appealed to him enormously. The profits under his primitive methods of dealing with the matter were dazzlingly large, and, in consequence, the business became a dominant portion of his trade. Nor was it until the quantity of gold he bought began to grow, and mount into thousands of dollars' worth, that the difficulties of his traffic began to force themselves upon him. Then it was that he realized that if it was insecure to dispatch a gold stage laden with the property of the prospectors, how was he to be able to hold his stock at the store with any greater degree of security. The more he thought of the matter the greater the difficulties appeared. Of course he saw possibilities, but none of them offered the security he needed. Then worry set in. History might easily repeat itself on Suffering Creek. James' gang was reported to be a large one. Well, what if he chose to sweep down upon the camp, and clean the place out. Herein lay the trouble. And in consequence his days and nights were none too easy. He had never spoken of the matter before. It was not a subject to be discussed with anybody. But Bill was different from the rest, and, for several days, Minky had sought an opportunity of unburdening himself to his friend. Now, at last, he had done so, and, in return, had received small enough comfort. Still he felt he had done the best thing. CHAPTER IX THE FORERUNNER OF THE TRUST