murderous gaze was fastened on the back
of his head.

"Don't go to gettin' too damn nosey, Hal," he said in his always
agreeable voice.

Smith soused all the fish in water again: "You'd better tell somebody if
you go gunning for Quintana."

"Did I ask your advice?"

"You did not," said the young man, smiling.

"All right. Mind your business."

Smith got up from the water's edge with his pan of trout:

"That's what I shall do, Mike," he said, laughing. "So go on with your
private war; it's no button off _my_ pants if Quintana gets you."

He went away toward the ice-house with the trout. Eve Strayer, doing
chamber work, watched the young man from an upper room.

The girl's instinct was to like Smith, -- but that very instinct aroused
her distrust. What was a man of his breeding and education doing at
Clinch's dump? Why was he content to hang around and do chores? A man
of his type who had gone crooked enough to stick up a tourist in an
automobile nourishes higher- though probably perverted -- ambitions than
a dollar a day and board.

She heard Clinch's light step on the uncarpeted stair; went on making up
Smith's bed; and smiled as her step-father came into the room, still
carrying his rifle.

He had something else in his hand, too, -- a flat, thin packet wrapped
in heavy paper and sealed all over with black wax.

"Girlie," he said, "I want you should do a little errand for me this
morning. If you're spry it won't take long -- time to go there and get
back to help with noon dinner."

"Very well, dad."

"Go git your pants on, girlie."

"You want me to go into the woods?"

"I want you to go to the hole in the rocks under Star Peak and lay this
packet under the hootch cache."

She nodded, tucked in the sheets, smoothed blanket and pillow with deft
hands, went out to her own room. Clinch seated himself and turned a
blank face to the window.

It was a sudden decision. He realised now that he couldn't keep the
jewels in his house. War was on with Quintana. The "hotel" would be
the goal for Quintana and his gang. And for smith, too, if ever
temptation over-powered him. The house was liable to an attempt at
robbery any night, now; -- any day, perhaps. It was no place for the
packet he had taken from Jose Quintana.

Eve came in wearing grey shirt, breeches, and puttees. Clinch gave her
the packet.

"What's in it, dad?" she asked smilingly.

"Don't you get nosey, girlie. Come here."