to de time ob
de flood, I reck'n. An' he done swore he'd fight for whatebber it
was, papers or no papers. Den Hawley, he got plumb tired ob de ol' man
swearin' at him, an' he grabbed a picter out ob he's pocket, an' says,
'Damn you; look at dat! What kind ob a fight can yo' make against dat
face?' De ol' man stared at it a while, sorter chokin' up; den he say
softer like: 'It's Hope; where did yo' ebber get dat?' and de black
debble he laughed, an' shoved de picter back into he's pocket. 'Hope,
hell!' he say, 'it's Phyllis, an' I'll put her before any jury yo're
mind to get--oh, I've got yo' nailed, Waite, dis time.'"

"Was that all?"

"De ol' gin'ral he didn't seem ter know what ter say; he done set dar
lookin' off ober de prairie like he was clar flumegasted. He sho' did
look like dat black debble hed hit him mighty hard. Den he says slow
like, turnin' his hoss 'round: 'Bartlett, yo' am puttin' up a good
bluff, but, by Gawd, I'm goin' ter call yo'. Yo' don't get a cent ob dat
money 'less yo' put up de proof. I'll meet yo' whar yo' say, but ef I
can git hol' ob some papers dat's missin' I'll take dat grin off yo'
face.' De odder one laughed, an' de ol' gin'ral started fo' ter ride
away, den he pull up he's hoss, an' look back. 'Yo' sorter herd wid dat
kind ob cattle, Bartlett,' he say, sharp like, 'maybe yo' know a gambler
roun' yere called Hawley?' De black debble nebber eben lose he's grin.
'Do yo' mean Black Bart Hawley?' 'Dat's the man, where is he?' 'Dealin'
faro fo' Mike Kenna in Topeka a week ago--friend ob yours?' 'Dat's none
ob yo' damned business,' snorted de ol' gin'ral, givin' his hoss de
spur. Sho', Massa Jack, he nebber knowed he was talkin' ter dat same
Hawley, an' dat black debble jest laughed as he rode off."

"When was all this, Neb?"

"'Bout de time yo' all went up on de hill, I reck'n. I done come right
yere, and waited."

Keith walked across the room, selected a cigar, and came back, his
mind busy with the problem. Hawley had in some manner, then, got into
communication with Waite, and was threatening him. But Waite evidently
knew the man under another name--his given name--and the gambler had
sent him off on a false trail. The lost papers apparently contained the
solution to all this mystery. Waite believed Hawley possessed them,
but did not suspect that Bartlett and Hawley were the same person. What
would he most naturally do now? Seek Hawley in Topeka probably; seize
the first opportunity