The Desert Trail. Coolidge Dane

gave Phil a rather crusty nod as he spoke, but De Lancey was dragging up another chair and failed to notice.

      "Mr. Hooker was telling me about some proposition you had, to go down into Mexico," he began, drawing up closer while the old man watched him from under his eyebrows. "That's one tough country to do business in right now, but at the same time—"

      "The country's perfectly quiet," put in Kruger—"perfectly quiet."

      "Well, maybe so," qualified De Lancey; "but when it comes to getting in supplies—"

      "Not a bit of trouble in the world," said the old man crabbedly. "Not a bit."

      "Well," came back De Lancey, "what's the matter, then? What is the proposition, anyway?"

      Henry Kruger blinked and eyed him intently.

      "I've stated the proposition to Hooker," he said, "and he refused it. That's enough, ain't it?"

      De Lancey laughed and turned away.

      "Well, yes, I guess it is." Then, in passing, he said to Bud: "Go ahead and talk to him."

      He walked away, lighting a cigarette and smiling good-naturedly, and the oldtimer turned to Bud.

      "That's a smart man you've got for a pardner," he remarked. "A smart man. You want to look out," he added, "or he'll get away with you."

      "Nope," said Bud. "You don't know him like I do. He's straight as a die."

      "A man can be straight and still get away with you," observed the veteran shrewdly. "Yes, indeed." He paused to let this bit of wisdom sink in, and then he spoke again.

      "You better quit—while you're lucky," he suggested. "You quit and come with me," he urged, "and if we strike it, I'll make you a rich man. I don't need your pardner on this deal. I need just one man that can keep his head shut. Listen now; I'll tell you what it is.

      "I know where there's a lost mine down in Mexico. If I'd tell you the name you'd know it in a minute, and it's free gold, too. Now there's a fellow that had that land located for ten years, but he couldn't find the lead. D'ye see? And when this second revolution came on he let it go—he neglected to pay his mining taxes and let it go back to the government. And now all I want is a quiet man to slip in and denounce that land and open up the lead. Here, look at this!"

      He went down into his pocket and brought out a buckskin sack, from which he handed over a piece of well-worn quartz.

      "That's the rock," he said. "She runs four hundred dollars to the ton, and the ledge is eight inches wide between the walls. Nice ore, eh? And she lays between shale and porphyry."

      His eyes sparkled as he carefully replaced the specimen, and then he looked up at Bud.

      "I'll let you in on that," he said, "half and half—or I'll pay two hundred dollars a month and a bonus. You alone. Now how about it?"

      For a moment Hooker looked at him as if to read his thoughts, then he shook his head and exhaled his smoke regretfully.

      "Nope," he said. "Me and Phil are pardners. We work together."

      "I'll give you three hundred!" cried Kruger, half rising in his chair.

      "Nope," grunted Bud, "we're pardners."

      "Huh!" snorted the mining man, and flung away in disgust. But as he neared the door a new thought struck him and he came as quickly back.

      "You can do what you please about your pardner," he said. "I'm talking to you. Now—will you think about it?"

      "Sure!" returned Hooker.

      "Well, then," snapped Kruger, "meet me at the Waldorf in an hour!"

III

       Table of Contents

      On the untrammeled frontier, where most men are willing to pass for what they are without keeping up any "front," much of the private business, as well as the general devilment, is transacted in the back rooms of saloons. The Waldorf was nicely furnished in this regard.

      After a drink at the bar, in which De Lancey and Hooker joined, Henry Kruger led the way casually to the rear, and in a few moments they were safely closeted.

      "Now," began Kruger, as he took a seat by the table and faced them with snapping eyes, "the first thing I want to make plain to you gentlemen is, if I make any deal to-day it's to be with Mr. Hooker. If you boys are pardners you can talk it over together, but I deal with one man, and that's Hooker.

      "All right?" he inquired, glancing at De Lancey, and that young man nodded indulgently.

      "Very well, then," resumed Kruger, "now to get down to business. This mine that I'm talking about is located down here in Sonora within three hours' ride of a big American camp. It isn't any old Spanish mine, or lost padre layout; it's a well-defined ledge running three or four hundred dollars to the ton—and I know right where it is, too.

      "What I want to do is to establish the title to it now, while this revolution is going on, and make a bonanza out of it afterward. Of course, if you boys don't want to go back into Mexico, that settles it; but if you do go, and I let you in on the deal, you've got to see it through or I'll lose the whole thing. So make up your minds, and if you say you'll go, I want you to stick to it!"

      "We'll go, all right," spoke up De Lancey, "if it's rich enough."

      "How about you?" inquired Kruger, turning impatiently on Bud. "Will you go?"

      "Yes, I'll go," answered Bud sullenly. "But I ain't stuck on the job," he added. "Jest about get it opened up when a bunch of rebels will jump in and take everything we've got."

      "Well, you get a title to it and pay your taxes and you can come out then," conceded Henry Kruger.

      "No," grumbled Hooker, "if I go I'll stay with it." He glanced at his pardner at this, but he, for one, did not seem to be worried.

      "I'll try anything—once!" he observed with a sprightly air, and Bud grinned sardonically at the well-worn phrase.

      "Well," said Kruger, gazing inquiringly from one to the other, "is it a go? Will you shake hands on it?"

      "What's the proposition?" broke in De Lancey eagerly.

      "The deal is between me and Hooker," corrected Kruger. "I'll give him three hundred a month, or an equal share in the mine, expenses to be shared between us."

      "Make it equal shares," said Hooker, holding out his hand, "and I'll give half of mine to Phil."

      "All right, my boy!" cried the old man, suddenly clapping him on the shoulder, "I'll go you—and you'll never regret it," he added significantly. Then, throwing off the air of guarded secrecy which had characterized his actions so far, he sat down and began to talk.

      "Boys," he said, "I'm feeling lucky to-day or I'd never have closed this deal. I'm letting you in on one of the biggest things that's ever been found in Sonora. Just to show you how good it is, here's my smelter receipts for eight hundred pounds of picked ore—one thousand and twenty-two dollars! That's the first and last ore that's ever been shipped from the old Eagle Tail. I dug it out myself, and sacked it and shipped it; and then some of them crooked Mexican officials tried to beat me out of my title and I blowed up the whole works with dynamite!

      "Yes, sir, clean as a whistle! I had my powder stored away in the drift, and the minute I found out I was euchred I laid a fuse to it and brought the whole mountain down. That was ten years ago, and old Aragon and the agente mineral have had the land located ever since.

      "I bet they've spent five thousand pesos trying to find that lead, but being nothing but a bunch of ignorant Mexicans, of course they never found nothing. Then Francisco Madero comes in and fires the agente mineral off his job and old Aragon lets the land revert for taxes.