The Furnace of Gold Part 18

CHAPTER XV

HATCHING A PLOT

"You're back pretty p.r.o.nto," drawled the gambler, by way of an opening remark. "Found something too big to keep hidden?"

"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." Bostwick rose from his chair, put one foot upon it, and leaned towards the gambler as one a.s.suming a position of equality, if not of something more. "Look here, McCoppet, you asked me the day I arrived what sort of a game I'd come to play. I ask you now if you are prepared to play something big--and--well, let us say, a trifle risky?"

"Don't insult my calling," answered the gambler. "I call. Lay your cards on the table."

Bostwick sat down and leaned across the soiled green baize.

"You probably know as much as I do about the 'Laughing Water'

claim--its richness--its owners--and where it's located."

McCoppet nodded, narrowing his eyes.

"A good dog could smell their luck from here."

"But do you know where it lies--their claim?" insisted Bostwick significantly. "That's the point I'm making at present."

"It's just this side of the reservation, from what I hear," replied the gambler, "but if there's nothing on the reservation even near the 'Laughing Water' ground----"

Bostwick interrupted impatiently: "What's the matter with _the 'Laughing Water' being on the reservation_?"

McCoppet was sharp but he failed to grasp his a.s.sociate's meaning.

"But it ain't," he said, "and no one claims it is."

Bostwick lowered his voice and looked at the gambler peculiarly.

"No one claims it _yet_!"

McCoppet threw away his cigar and took out a new one.

"Well? Come on. I bite. What's the answer?"

Bostwick leaned back in his chair.

"Suppose an accredited surveyor were to run out the reservation line--the line next the 'Laughing Water' claim--and make an error of an inch at the farthest end. Suppose that inch, projected several miles, became about a thousand feet--wouldn't the 'Laughing Water' claim be discovered to be a part of the Indian reservation?"

McCoppet eyed him narrowly, in silence, for a moment. He had suddenly conceived a new estimate of the man who had come from New York.

Bostwick again leaned forward, continuing:

"No one will be aware of the facts but ourselves--therefore no one will think of attempting to relocate the 'Laughing Water' ground, lawfully, at six o'clock on the morning of the rush. But we will be on hand, with the law at our backs, and quietly take possession of the property, on which--as it is reservation ground--the present occupants are trespa.s.sing."

McCoppet heard nothing of what his friend was saying. All the possibilities outlined had flashed through his mind at Bostwick's first intimation of the plan. He was busy now with affairs far ahead in the scheme.

"Culver, the Government agent and surveyor is a dark one," he mused aloud, half to himself. "If only Lawrence, his deputy, was in his shoes---- Your frame-up sounds pretty tight, Bostwick, but Culver may block us with his d.a.m.nable squareness."

"Every man has his price," said Bostwick, "--big and little. Culver, you say, represents the Government? Where is he now?"

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. The "syndicate" of which he had spoken was entirely comprised of Beth and her money, which he hoped presently to call his own. He had worked his harmless little fiction of big financial men behind him in the certainty of avoiding detection.

"Of course, I can call on the money," he said, "but I may need a day or so to get it. How much shall we require?"

McCoppet chewed his cigar reflectively.

"Culver will sure come high--if we get him at all--but--it ought to be worth fifty thousand to you and me to s.h.i.+ft that reservation line a thousand feet--if reports on the claim are correct."

It was a large sum. Bostwick scratched the corner of his mouth.

"That would be twenty-five thousand apiece."

"No," corrected McCoppet, "twenty thousand for me and thirty for you, for equal shares. I've got to do the work underground."

"Perhaps I could handle what's his name, Culver, myself," objected Bostwick. "The fact that I'm a stranger here----"

"And what will you do if he refuses?" interrupted the gambler. "Will you still have an ace in your kahki?"

Bostwick stared.

"If he should refuse, and tell the owners----"

"Right. Can you handle it then?"

Bostwick answered: "Can you?"

"It's my business to get back what I've lost--and a little bit more.

You leave it to me. Keep away from Culver, and bring me thirty thousand in the morning."

Bostwick was breathing hard. He maintained a show of calm.

"The morning's a little bit soon for me to turn around. I'll bring it when I can."

McCoppet arose. The interview was ended. He added: