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Updated: June 10, 2025
Gettysburg, Dave, and Napoleon returned once more to the placer and sluices on the hill. Glenmore Kent was of the party, as superintendent of the mine. He held a degree from a school of mines, and knew even more than he had learned. Moreover, he had saved the gold pilfered by Bostwick and McCoppet. Then one sunny morning Van and Beth were married by a Justice of the Peace. Algy and Mrs.
Bostwick, in alarm concerning possible disaster to the plans he had made with McCoppet, now that Culver was dead, had gone to seek the gambler out and ascertain the status of affairs. For a moment neither Beth nor Van could speak. The girl, like a startled moon-sprite, wide-eyed and grave, had taken on a mood of beauty such as the man had never seen.
"Now, how can anybody tell you that?" demanded McCoppet, who from his place here in Goldite had engineered the plan whereby his and Bostwick's expert prospectors could explore every inch of the Government's forbidden land in advance of all competitors. "We're taking a flyer, that's all. If there's anything there we're on." Bostwick reflected for a moment.
McCoppet replied with a question: "Bostwick, how much have you got?" Bostwick flushed. "Money? Oh, I can raise my share, I hope." "You hope?" repeated the gambler. "Ain't your syndicate back of any game you open, with the money to see it started right?" Bostwick was a trifle uneasy.
"She kicked the bucket havin' a kid which wasn't Cayuse's too darn white fer even him and Cayuse is on the war trail fer that father." McCoppet threw away his chewed cigar and replaced it with a fresh one. He nodded as before. "Cayuse is on that I know who the father was," resumed the visitor. "I told him to come here to Goldite and I'd give up the name."
He remained out of sight even now, dispatching a messenger to Culver, in the afternoon, requesting his presence for a conference for the total undoing of Van Buren. Culver, who in ordinary circumstances might have refused this request with haughty insolence, responded to the summons rather sooner than McCoppet had expected.
"There's nothing at present that our syndicate could do?" "There'll be plenty of chances to use ready money," McCoppet assured him, rising. "You're here on the ground. Keep your shirt on and leave the shuffling to me." Bostwick, too, arose. "How long will young Kent be away?" "As long as I can keep him busy out South." "What is he doing out South?" "Locating a second Goldite," said the gambler.
"You'll never leave this room alive if I don't git the money. Ring fer it, Opal, ring the bell, and order it in with the drinks!" McCoppet would have temporized. It was not so much the money now as the state of affairs in the street. How much was known? and what was being done? These were the questions in his mind. "Don't get excited, friend," he said.
If ever I fight Van Buren when I'm sober I'll eat him alive. I was drunk when he licked me, and you know it!" McCoppet leaned back in his chair and half closed his eyes. "I didn't know but what you'd like to sober up and lick him." Trimmer stared, shifted uneasily in his seat, and demanded: "Where? Where is he at?" "He's going to Starlight to-morrow from up by the reservation from his claim.
"That reservation is a false alarm, as Billy and the others will tell you," answered Bostwick, referring to McCoppet's chosen prospectors. "The rush will prove a farce." "You've decided sudden, ain't you?" asked McCoppet. "There's a good big deck there to stack." "We've wasted time and money till to-day."
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