“I’m sorry, Baker,” said Bob, “and I suppose I must appear to be a spy in the matter.  But it can’t be helped.”

Baker’s good-humoured, fat face had fallen into grave lines.  He studied a distant spruce tree for a moment.

“Well,” he roused himself at last, “I wish this particular attack of measles had passed off before you bucked up against us.  Because, you know, that land’s ours, and we don’t expect to give it up on account of this sort of fool agitation.  We’ll win this case.  I’m sorry you’re mixed up in it.”

“Saleratus Bill?” hinted Bob.

Baker’s humorous expression returned.

“What do you take me for?” he grinned.  “No, that’s Oldham’s bodyguard.  Thinks he needs a bodyguard these days.  That’s what comes from having a bad conscience, I tell him.  Some of those dagoes he’s sold bum farms to are more likely to show up with a desire to abate him, than that anything would happen to him in these hills.  Now let’s get this straight; the cases go on?”

“Yes.”

“And you testify?”

“Yes.”

“And call Welton in for corroboration?”

“I hardly think that’s necessary.”

“It will be, as you very well know.  I just wanted to be sure how we stood toward each other.  So long.”

He turned uncompromisingly away, and stumped off down the trail on his fat and sturdy legs.

Bob looked after him amazed, at this sudden termination of the interview.  He had anticipated argument, sophistry, appeal to old friendship, perhaps a more dark and doubtful approach.  Though conscious throughout of Baker’s contempt for what the promoter would call his childish impracticability, his disloyalty and his crankiness, Bob realized that all of this had been carefully subdued.  Baker’s manner at parting expressed more of regret than of anger or annoyance.

XVIII

To this short and inconclusive interview, however, Baker did not fail to add somewhat through Oldham.  The agent used none of the circumspection Baker had considered necessary, but rode openly into camp and asked for Bob.  The latter, remembering Oldham’s reputed antagonism to Baker, could not but admire the convenience of the arrangement.  The lank and sinister figure of Saleratus Bill was observed to accompany that of the land agent, but the gun man, at a sign from his principal; did not dismount.  He greeted no one, but sat easily across his saddle, holding the reins of both horses in his left hand, his jaws working slowly, his evil, little eyes wandering with sardonic interest over the people and belongings at headquarters.  Ware nodded to him.  The man’s eyes half closed and for an instant the motion of his jaw quickened.  Otherwise he made no sign.

Oldham drew Bob one side.

“I want to talk to you where we won’t be interrupted,” he requested.

“Talk on,” said Bob, seating himself on a log.  “The open is as good a place as another; you can see your eavesdroppers there.”