The Furnace of Gold

  CHAPTER XV

  HATCHING A PLOT

  "You're back pretty pronto," drawled the gambler, by way of an openingremark. "Found something too big to keep hidden?"

  "That reservation is a false alarm, as Billy and the others will tellyou," 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 goodbig deck there to stack."

  "We've wasted time and money till to-day." Bostwick rose from hischair, put one foot upon it, and leaned towards the gambler as oneassuming 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 cometo play. I ask you now if you are prepared to play somethingbig--and--well, let us say, a trifle risky?"

  "Don't insult my calling," answered the gambler. "I call. Lay yourcards 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 Bostwicksignificantly. "That's the point I'm making at present."

  "It's just this side of the reservation, from what I hear," replied thegambler, "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 associate'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 reservationline--the line next the 'Laughing Water' claim--and make an error of aninch at the farthest end. Suppose that inch, projected several miles,became about a thousand feet--wouldn't the 'Laughing Water' claim bediscovered to be a part of the Indian reservation?"

  McCoppet eyed him narrowly, in silence, for a moment. He had suddenlyconceived 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 willthink 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 aretrespassing."

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

  "Culver, the Government agent and surveyor is a dark one," he musedaloud, half to himself. "If only Lawrence, his deputy, was in hisshoes---- Your frame-up sounds pretty tight, Bostwick, but Culver mayblock us with his damnable 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 anygame you open, with the money to see it started right?"

  Bostwick was a trifle uneasy. The "syndicate" of which he had spokenwas entirely comprised of Beth and her money, which he hoped presentlyto call his own. He had worked his harmless little fiction of bigfinancial 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 orso 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 beworth fifty thousand to you and me to shift that reservation line athousand 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," objectedBostwick. "The fact that I'm a stranger here----"

  "And what will you do if he refuses?" interrupted the gambler. "Willyou 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 thirtythousand 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 itwhen I can."

  McCoppet arose. The interview was ended. He added:

  "Have a drink?"

  "I'll wait," said Bostwick, "till we can drink a toast to the 'LaughingWater' claim."

  McCoppet opened the door, waved Bostwick into the crowded gaming room,and was about to follow when his roving gaze abruptly lighted on afigure in the place--a swarthy, half-breed Piute Indian, standing infront of the wheel and roulette layout.

  Quickly stepping back inside the smaller apartment, the gambler pulleddown his hat. His face was the color of ashes.

  "So long. See you later," he murmured, and he closed the door withouta sound.

  Bostwick, wholly at a loss to understand his sudden dismissal, lingeredfor a moment only in the place, then made his way out to the street,and went to the postoffice, where he found a letter from Glenmore Kent.Intent upon securing the needed funds from Beth with the smallestpossible delay, he dropped the letter, unread, in his pocket and headedfor the house where Beth was living. He walked, however, no more thanhalf a block before he altered his mind. Pausing for a moment on thesidewalk, he turned on his heel and went briskly to his own apartments,where he performed an unusual feat.

  First he read the letter from Kent. It was dated from the newest campin the desert and was filled with glittering generalities concerningriches about to be discovered. It urged him, in case he had arrived inGoldite, to hasten southward forthwith--"and bring a bunch of money."Glenmore's letters always appealed for money--a fact which Bostwick hadremembered.

  The man sat down at his table and wrote a letter to himself. Withyoung Kent's epistle for his model, he made an amazingly clever forgeryof the enthusiastic writer's chirography, and at the bottom signed theyoung man's name.

  This spurious document teemed with figures and assertions concerning awonderful gold mine which Glenmore had virtually purchased. He neededsixty thousand dollars at once, however, to complete his remarkablebargain. Only two days of his option remained and therefore delaywould be fatal. He expected this letter to find his friend at Golditeand he felt assured he would not be denied this opportunity of alifetime to make a certain fortune. He would, of course, appeal toBeth--with certainty of her help from the wealth bequeathed her by heruncle--but naturally she was too far away,

  Glenmore was unaware of the fact that his sister had come to the West.Bostwick overlooked no details of importance. Armed with thisplausible missive, he went at once to Mrs. Dick's and found that Bethwas at home.