and I didn't call him. If you want to
save my life, you'd better reconsider."

"No; don't call him," she insisted. "It isn't at all necessary,
and--and perhaps you can tell me what I want to know--what I ought to
know before I----" the sentence trailed off into nothing and she began
again rather breathlessly: "Mr. Bertrand, can you--can you satisfy me
in any way that you and your two friends have a legal right to this
claim you are working? It's a perfect--impertinence in me, to ask, I
know, but----"

"It is a fair question," I hastened to assure her; "one that any one
might ask. With the proper means at hand--maps and records--I could
very easily answer it."

"But--but there may have been mistakes made," she suggested.

"Doubtless there were; but we haven't made them. The Lawrenceburg
Company owns the ground on two sides of us, and for some considerable
distance beyond us toward the head of the gulch; but I can assure you
that our title to the Little Clean-Up is perfectly good and legal in
every way."

"It is going to be disputed," she broke in hurriedly. "Mr. Blackwell
has talked about it--before me, just as if I didn't count. Telegrams
have been passing back and forth, and the Lawrenceburg owners in the
East have given Mr. Blackwell full authority to take such steps as he
may think best. I--that is, Daddy and I--have known Mr. Barrett for a
long time, and I couldn't let this thing happen without giving him just
a little warning. Some kind of legal proceedings have already been
begun, and you are to be driven off--to-morrow."

"Oh, I guess not; not so suddenly as all that," I ventured to say.
There were many questions to come crowding in, but I could scarcely
expect the assayer's daughter to answer them. Her father had plainly
declared his belief that we were stealing Lawrenceburg ore and planning
a blackmailing scheme: had he told Blackwell? The query practically
answered itself. If Blackwell had been told that we were salting our
claim with ore stolen from the Lawrenceburg sheds, the "legal
proceedings" would have been a simple arrest-warrant and a search for
stolen property. Had Everton told his daughter? This was blankly
incredible. If he had told her that we were thieves, she would never
have gone so far aside from her childhood hatred of duplicity and
wrong-doing as to come and warn us.

"I was afraid you might not believe me," she said, with a little catch
in her voice; and then: "I can