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Updated: June 13, 2025
Margaret observed that the timbered sides of the tunnel leaned inward slightly and that the roof was heavily cross-timbered. "It looks safe," she thought aloud. "It's safe enough," returned Dunke carelessly. "The place for cave-ins is at the head of the workings, before we get drifts timbered." "Are we going into any of those places?"
Without understanding the reason for it, she could see that he was uneasy, that he was trying to discount the value of anything the convict might have told her. Yet what could Struve the convict, No. 9,432, have to do with the millionaire mine-owner, Thomas J. Dunke? What could there be in common between them? Why should the latter fear what the other had to tell?
You're sure all safe now," he said tenderly, and in the blackness his lips sought and met hers in a kiss that sealed the understanding their souls had reached. At the sound of Neill's voice Dunke had extinguished the candle and vanished in the darkness with Struve, the latter holding him by the arm in a despairing grip.
"So help me God, every word of it." "He let my brother go to prison without trying to help him?" "Worse than that. He sent him to prison. Jim was all right when he first met up with Dunke. It was Dunke that got him into his wild ways and led him into trouble. It was Dunke took him into the hold-up business. Hadn't been for him Jim never would have gone wrong." She made no answer.
Apparently he had somehow managed to slip from the gyves by working at them constantly. The officer turned to his friend and laughed. "I reckon I'm holding the sack this time. See. There's blood on these cuffs. He rasped his hands some before he got them out." "Well, you've still got him safe down here somewhere." "Yes, I have or Dunke has. The trouble is both the mines are shut down just now.
He took a dozen running steps forward, so that in his haste the candle flickered out. "That you, Miss Margaret?" the mine-owner called. Neither she nor Struve answered. The latter had stopped and was waiting tensely his enemy's approach. When he was within a few yards of the other Dunke raised his candle and peered into the blackness ahead of him. "What's the matter? Isn't it you, Miss Peggy?"
"But my business, I think," the girl answered sharply, jerking the bridle from his fingers. Dunke stared at her. It was his night of surprises. He failed to recognize the conventional teacher he knew in this bright-eyed, full-throated young woman who fronted him so sure of herself. She seemed to him to swim brilliantly in a tide of flushed beauty, in spite of the dust and the stains of travel.
The best of feeling did not exist between the owners of the Jackrabbit and those of the Mal Pais. Dunke was suspected of boldly crossing into the territory of his neighbor where his veins did not lead. But there had been no open rupture. For the very reason that an undertow of feeling existed Nellie consented to join the party.
From the look in the face of his old comrade in crime who had prospered at his expense, as he chose to think, he saw that for the time being he had got the whip-hand. There was a long silence before Dunke asked hoarsely: "What do you want?" "I want you to hide me. I want you to get me out of this country. I want you to divvy up with me. Didn't we grub-stake you with the haul from the Overland?
That's the way I came." "And it's the way we'll go. I might a-known you'd know all about it give you a quarter of a chance," her brother said admiringly. "We'll duck through the roof and let Mr. Dunke hold the sack. Lead the way, sis." She guided them along another passageway and up some stairs to the second story. The trap-door that opened to the flat roof was above the bed about six feet.
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