“Wait just a minute before you say he ain’t got any friends, or at least acquaintances.  That’s what I came to see you about to-night.”  Neilson paused, for the sake of suspense.  “Beatrice came up to-night, as agreed, and she had a prospector with her—­and he knew old Hiram’s brother.”

A short, tense silence followed his words, and Ray stared into his cup.  It might be that just for an instant the reckless light went out of his eyes and left them startled and glazing.  Then he got to his feet.  “Then God Almighty!” he cried.  “What you waiting for?  Why don’t you croak him off before this night’s over?”

“Wait, you fool, till you’ve heard everything,” Neilson replied.  “There’s no hurry about killing.  As I told you, the less work of that kind we do, the more chance we’ve got of dying in our beds.  It may be reasonable for one prospector to disappear, but some one’s going to be suspicious if two of ’em do.  I think I’ve already handled the matter.”

“I’d handle it, and quick too,” Ray protested.

“You’d handle yourself up a gallows, too.  He doesn’t seem to be a close friend of this old man; he just seems to have met up with him at the river, and the old man steered him up here.  He asked me where the old man’s claim was, and said he wanted to go over and see him.  He was taking Hiram’s wolf and his gun up to him.  I told him I hadn’t heard of the claim, that it must be farther inside, and I think I put it over.  He ain’t got the least suspicion.  What he’ll do is hang around here a while, I suppose, prospecting—­and likely enough soon forget all about the old devil.  I just came down here to tell you he was here and to watch your step.”

“Then the first thing up,” Chan Heminway suggested, “is to bury the stiff.”

“Spoke up like a fool!” Ray answered.  “Not till this man is dead or out of the country.  It’s well hidden, and don’t go prowling anywheres near it.  If he’s the least bit suspicious, or even if he’s on the lookout for gold, he’d likely enough follow you.  But there’s one thing we can do—­and that quick.”

“And what’s that?”

“Start Chan off to-morrow to the office in Bradleyburg and record this claim in our names.  We’ve waited too long already.”

“Ray, you’re talking like a man now,” Neilson agreed.  “You and I stay here and work away, innocent as can be, on the claim.  Chan, put that bottle away and get to bed.  Take the trail down first thing to-morrow.  Then we can laugh at all the prospectors that want to come.”

XVII

Soon after the break of dawn Ben put his pick and shovel on his shoulder, and leisurely walked up the creek past Ray’s cabin.  Since Chan Heminway had already departed down the long trail to Bradleyburg—­a town situated nearly forty miles from Snowy Gulch—­Ray alone saw him pass; and he eyed him with some apprehension.  Daylight had brought a more vivid consciousness of his last night’s crime; and a little of his bravado had departed from him.  He moved closer to his rifle.