"All right." Murray chuckled again. "We've cleaned up a bit for you, so fall to work! In two or three days we'll be back, and have an arrangement in regard to the future. If you're seriously set on opening up a print-shop, we'll agree----"
"As partners?" queried Willyum anxiously.
"Sure," asserted Sandy, with one of his rare smiles. "We go three-square in everything! Mine and homestead and newspaper--we'll be running the country next!"
"'Where every prospect pleases and only man is vile,'" quoth Murray, and grinned. His grin was worthy the name, and was most reprehensible in a man of his years and experiences.
"You take the papers," said Mackintavers, extending them. "Don't leave 'em with Bill. 'Twouldn't be safe. A mere ex-burglar would be an infant in arms with these natives to plunder him!"
"I s'pose so," agreed Bill Hobbs mournfully, and bade his partners farewell.
At six in the morning, Murray and Sandy Mackintavers drove out along the north road toward Morongo Valley, and vanished for a space from human ken. At a later hour, Bill Hobbs went forth to his "joint," and was too much absorbed to show up again at the hotel until supper.
Toward noon, Claire summoned Piute Tomkins to her father's room, with word that Tom Lee wished to speak with him. Piute obeyed the summons. When he entered, Tom Lee gazed at him steadily for a moment.
"I wish to know, Mr. Tomkins," he said slowly, "who owns the valley at which we looked the other day--Morongo Valley, I think the name is."
"Who--who owns it?" stammered Piute. He was of a sudden acutely mindful of a sub rosa transaction by which Deadoak had transferred that property to him, and he to Mackintavers. "Why--d'ye mean the homestead or the mine, now?"
"Both," snapped Tom Lee impatiently. "All of it--all of the little valley!"
Piute was positively staggered. He had no certain clue from this whether Tom Lee wanted the mine or not; chances were, he did. Murray and Mackintavers were gone--and Bill Hobbs, he guessed shrewdly, knew little of the matter, or at least could sign away nothing.
"Well, I'll tell ye," said Piute, desperate. "Right queer about that there place, it is! Ye see, the feller that homesteaded it an' worked the mine, he got stove in under his own shaft. My father-in-law, he was, and a right mean ol' scoundrel to boot. Well, Deadoak Stevens, he wanted the prop'ty, on account o' Hassayamp havin' a bag o' dust on him and meanin' to dig up the remains----"