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"Class has nearly wrecked my life twice; now we are going to pay some attention to worth and brains." They were sitting in the library a little later, when John Culver entered. He did not see Robert lounging on a divan in a dim corner of the big room as he said, "Mrs. Horton, this check that you have given me to date is made out to John Carver and of course I could not cash it."
Before he could say more, from the front of the house came the rattle of wheels, a loud "Whoa!" then Jean's voice, crying: "Culver! Culver!" while Mrs. Keap clutched at her bosom and moaned. Her companion bolted into the house and down the hall, shouting the name of his room-mate.
I think I'll tell Willie." He shambled rapidly off around the house. "Helen dear, I don't want Culver to get mixed up in this affair," explained Miss Chapin, as soon as they were alone. "It's all utterly foolish. Jack doesn't want him to, either." "Very well. If Culver doesn't feel that he can beat that cook running, I know who will try. Mr. Speed will do anything I ask.
His mind, like a ferret in a trap, was seeking wildly for a loophole of advantage. Light came in upon him suddenly, with a thought of Culver, by whom, subconsciously, he was worried. "How do you mean to handle the half-breed?" he inquired by way of preparing his ground. "You've promised to cough up a name." Trimmer scratched his head with the end of his pistol.
During the interim between Searle's departure and return affairs had been a trifle complicated in another direction affairs that lay between the gambler and his friend, the lumberman, big Trimmer. Trimmer had been paid one thousand dollars only of the sum agreed upon when he gave the name of Culver to the half-breed Indian, Cayuse.
See if you can't scratch off the lettering. How's this?" He read what he had written for the wire. "'Culver Covington, and so forth. Come quick. First train. Native Son making love to Jean. Wally. Ten words, and it tells the whole story. I can hardly explain why I want him, can I? He expects to stop off in Omaha for a day or two, but he'll be under way in an hour after he gets this.
The fact was recalled that Cayuse, the half-breed murderer of Culver, was as yet unreported from the hills. The sheriff, who had ridden day and night, in quest of either of the "wanted" men, came back to Goldite from a week's excursion, packed full of hardships, vigilance, and work, to renew his force and make another attempt. He offered a job to Van.
With his pistol ready in his hand he stepped out into the lighted room. "Good evening, gentlemen!" he said. For a space of perhaps twenty seconds after John Aldous announced himself there was no visible sign of life on the part of either Quade or Culver Rann. The latter sat stunned. Not the movement of a finger broke the stonelike immobility of his attitude.
"I'll bag the last of them," he muttered, and his lips twisted into a smile at which Culver winced. When the ticker clicked the first quotation of Great Lakes Dumont said: "Now, clear out, Culver! And shut the door after you, and let no one interrupt me until I call."
You're the only chance I've got, if Culver don't show, and the first law of nature ain't never been repealed." "Self-protection, eh?" "Exactly." Glass coughed thrice without result, stepped off the prayerrug, rolled it up tightly; then, hugging it beneath his arm, went on: "That four-eyed guy slipped me a whole lot of feed- box information. Why, he's a killer, Wally!
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