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Updated: June 10, 2025
Better go see about your car to-night. I'll hustle your men and your outfit. See you again if anything turns up important. Meantime, is your money in the bank?" "It's in the bank." "Right," said McCoppet. "Good-night." The following day in Goldite was one of occurrences, all more or less intimately connected with the affairs of Van and Beth.
McCoppet and that pal of his give Lawrence twenty thousand dollars, cash, to queer you on the reservation line and run you off your claim." Van scrutinized the sunken face and glittering eyes with the closest attention. "What's that?" he said. "Bought Lawrence to fake out the reservation line? Who told you, Matt? Who told you that?" The convict seemed to gain in strength.
Trimmer was not in a hurry. He eyed the man across the table calmly, his small, shifting optics dully gleaming. Presently he said; "Cayuse is here in camp." Cayuse was the half-breed Piute Indian whose company McCoppet had avoided.
No less excited when at last they knew that Van was innocent, the great crowd still occupied the street, hailing Trimmer to the lumber-pile and demanding to know how he came by the facts, and where Cayuse had gone. Trimmer was frightened into soberness at least into soberness sufficient to protect himself and McCoppet.
"Not here?" repeated Bostwick. "Where is he, then?" "Somewhere out in another camp or mining place or something. Now please go and dress. We can talk it over later." "This is abominable of Glen," said Bostwick. "Is McCoppet in town?" She looked her surprise. "McCoppet?" "You don't know him, of course," he hastened to say. "I shall try to find him at once."
McCoppet himself, on horseback, came riding down the slope. "That's enough from you!" interrupted the gambler's agent. "You and your crowd is liable for trespass, or Government prosecution, getting on the reservation land ahead of date. This ground belongs to me and my company, understand, with everything on it and all the gold you've took out!
"Sit down," said McCoppet, throwing away his unsmoked cigar and taking another from his pocket. "What's going on at Starlight?" Bostwick had no intention of divulging his personal affairs, but there was something in this that trenched upon "company" concerns. "Van Buren's going over there, to see young Kent," he admitted. "I've got to see him first." McCoppet looked up at him sharply.
The stranger who had witnessed the trouble at Culver's office had come there at the instance of McCoppet. It was, therefore, to McCoppet that he carried the intelligence of what had taken place, so far as he had seen. The gambler was exceedingly pleased.
The more completely to allay suspicions that might by any possibility creep around the circle to himself, McCoppet had been the camp's most active figure in organizing a posse, with the sheriff, to go out and capture Cayuse. His reasons for desiring the half-breed's end were naturally strong, nevertheless his active partisanship of law and justice excited no undesirable talk.
Somewhere back that's him there, talkin' to the guy with the fur on his jaw," informed the barkeeper, making a gesture with his thumb. "What's your poison?" "Nothing, thank you," answered Bostwick, who started for his man, but halted for McCoppet to finish his business with his friend.
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