But Ray’s sense of humor did not run along these lines.  The first danger signal of rising anger leaped like a little, hot spark into his eyes.  Many times before Ray had been obliged to curb his wrath against Neilson:  to-night he found it more difficult than ever.  The time would come, he felt, when he would no longer be obliged to submit to Neilson’s dictation.  Sometime the situation would be reversed; he would be leader instead of underling, taking the lion’s share of the profit of their enterprises instead of the left-overs, and when that time came he would not be obliged to endure Neilson’s jests in silence.  Neilson himself, as he eyed the stiffening figure, had no realization of Ray’s true attitude toward him.  He thought him a willing helper, a loyal partner, and he would not have sat with such content in his chair if he could have beheld the smoldering fires of jealousy and ambition in the other’s breasts The time would come when Ray would assert himself, he thought—­when Beatrice was safe in his hands.

“It may seem like a joke to you, but it doesn’t to me,” he answered shortly.  Nor was he able to keep his anger entirely from his voice.  “Everything that girl does you think is perfect.  Instead of encouraging her in her meanness you ought to help me out.”  His tones harshened, and he lost the fine edge of his self-control.  “I’ve stood enough nonsense from that little—­”

Seemingly, Neilson made no perceptible movement in his chair.  What change there was showed merely in the lines of his face, and particularly in the light that dwelt in the gray, straightforward eyes.  “Don’t finish it,” he ordered simply.

For an instant eyes met eyes in bitter hatred—­and Chan Heminway began to wonder just where he would seek cover in case matters got to a shooting stage.  But Ray’s gaze broke before that of his leader.  “I’m not going to say anything I shouldn’t,” he protested sullenly.  “But this doesn’t look like you’re helping out my case any.  You told me you’d do everything you could for me.  You even went so far as to say you’d take matters in your own hands—­”

“And I will, in reason.  I’m keeping away the rest of the boys so you can have a chance.  But if you think I’m going to tie her up to anybody against her will, you’re barking up the wrong tree.  She’s my daughter, and her happiness happens to be my first object.”  Then his voice changed, good-humored again.  “But cool down, boy—­wait till you hear everything I’ve got to tell you, and you’ll feel better.  Of course, you know what it’s about—­”

“I suppose—­Hiram Melville’s claim.”

“That’s it.  Of course we don’t know that he had a claim—­but he had a pocket full of the most beautiful nuggets you ever want to see.  No one knows that fact but me—­I saw ’em by accident—­and I got ’em now.  You know he’s always had an idea that the Yuga country was worth prospecting, but we always laughed at him.  Of course it is a pocket country; but it’s my opinion he found a pocket that would make many a placer look sick, before he died.”