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The rough suggestion of Bully Presby on the first day, discouraging him; the harsh attitude; the persistent attempts to dishearten him and buy him out; the endeavor to buy half the property from, and remove the backing, of Sloan, without which he could not go on; the words of the watchman, who doubtless had discovered Bully Presby's secret theft, blackmailed him as much as he could, and, dying, cursed him; but, hating the men of the mine more, had withheld the vital meaning of his accusation.
Only one light was visible, that in the cook's end of the mess-house, where that fat worthy lay upon his back and read a yellow-backed, sentimental novel. Faint and rumbling came the subdued roar of the mill at the Rattler, beating out the gold for Bully Presby; and through some vague prescience Dick was aware of its noise for the first time in weeks, and it conveyed a sense of menace.
Dissolution, death, and dust, and a half-interest in an abandoned mine! The harsh voice of Bully Presby aroused him from his thoughts. "All right," it said. "This seems sufficient, but if you've got the sense and judgment Sloan seems to think you have, you'll come to the conclusion that there's not much use in wasting any of his good, hard dollars on the Croix d'Or. It never has paid.
Seven years now since I hit him for cussin' me for somethin' that wa'n't my fault! But, by gee whiz, old Bully Presby could go some! We tipped an anvil over that day, and wrecked a bellows before they pulled us off each other. I've always wondered, since then which of us is the better man!"
"Can't help that," came the blustering answer. "You'll have to hit the trail. I don't take orders from no one but Presby." A shade of annoyance was depicted on Townsend's face as he continued to ignore the watchman's arrogance, and asked: "And please tell us, who is Presby?" "Presby? Who's Presby? What are you handin' me? You don't know Presby?"
But back of it all came the inexorable voice of truth, telling Dick that there was but one course open, and that was reparation; that to his benefactor he owed faith and loyalty; that Presby must pay, though his Richard Townsend's castles crumbled to dust in the wreckage of exposure.
"Oh, come on, Bill," interrupted the owner, stepping to the nearest burro's head. "We'll go on over to Presby, and get rid of this man of his. It won't hurt the burros to go a little farther." He turned to the watchman, who was scowling and obdurate. "Where can Presby and the Rattler be found?" he asked crisply. "Around the turn down at the mouth of the cañon," the watchman mumbled.
Dick could infer nothing of its reception. He could not tell whether Presby was inclined to accept it as sufficient authority, or to question it.
Maybe he dont want nothing more to do with me since I got my face burned. Ive kept my mouth shut until I found out it was you two men who saved me and Im writing this to pay you back the only way I can. Bully Presby is stealing all his best pay ore from the Croix d'Or. Hes worked clean under you and got the richest ledge in the district.
Dick handed him Presby's order, and the man read it through in surly silence; then his entire attitude underwent a swift change. He became almost obsequiously respectful. "I'll have to go down and have a talk with Mr. Presby," he said, and would have ventured a further remark, but was cut short by the mine-owner. "Yes, you'd better go and see him," Dick said concisely.
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