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Updated: June 10, 2025
Old Whiskers served a chaser with each drink of whiskey; coffee was boiled and cooking began; and all the drooping horses were banded together and driven up the canyon to the spring. It was only nine miles, and the Indians would keep on hauling, but already Wunpost had planned to put in a pipe-line and make Willie Meena a town.
He had looked on from afar, standing in front of the plate-glass window which had "Willie Meena Mining Company" across it; but at a signal from Lynch, who had been acting as his lookout, he came running to demand his rights.
Blackwater had become a great city, but it was not for her the empty honor of having the Willie Meena named after her was all she had won from her mine. John C. Calhoun had been right when he warned her, long before, that the mining game was more like a dog fight than it was like a Sunday school picnic; and yet well, some people made money at it.
This was Pisen-face Lynch, the bad man from Bodie, who was going to trail him to his mine; this was Eells' hired man-killer and professional claim-jumper who had robbed him of the Wunpost and Willie Meena and now he was a derelict, lost on the desert he claimed to know, following along behind his half-dead horse; and but for the Indian who was coming out to meet him he would go to his just reward.
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