“I think not; when kings win, the game is virtually up.  We hold altogether to high cards for you, at present, and beg as you may, we shall not pass you.”

“Don’t be too sure of it.  The best trout often slips from the hook, when you are sanguine that you have at last been immoderately successful.  But, enough of this cheap talk.  Go on and say your say, in as few words as possible, for I am in a hurry.”

Both Filmore, Sr., and Filmore, Jr., laughed at this—­it sounded so ridiculously funny to hear a helpless prisoner talk of being in a hurry.

“Business must be pressing!” leered the elder, savagely.  “Don’t be at all scared.  We’ll start you humming along the road to Jordan soon enough, if that’s what you want.  First, however, we desire you to inform us where we can find the girl, as we wish to make a clean sweep, while we are about it.”

“Do you bathe your face in alum-water?” abruptly asked the road-agent, staring at his captor, quizzically.  “Do you?”

“Bathe in alum-water?  Certainly not, sir.  Why do you ask?”

“Because the hardness of you cheek is highly suggestive of the use of some similar application.”

Alexander Filmore stared at his son a moment, at loss to comprehend; but, as it began to dawn upon him that he was the butt of a hard hit, he uttered a frightful curse.

“My cheek and your character bear a close resemblance, then!” he retorted, hotly.  “Again I ask you, will you tell me where the girl is?”

“No! you must take me for an ornery mule, or some other kind of an animal, if you think I would deliver her into your clutches.  No! no! my scheming knaves, I will not.  Kill me if you like, but it will not accomplish your villainous ends.  She has all of the papers, and can not only put herself forward at the right time, but can have you arrested for my murder!”

“Bah! we can find her, as we have found you; so we will not trifle.  Clarence, get ready; and when I count one—­two—­three—­pull the trigger, and I’ll finish him with my knife!”

“All right; go ahead; I’m ready!” replied the dutiful son.

Fearless Frank sat upon a bowlder in the mouth of the quartz mine, listening to the strains of music that floated up to him from the cabin out in the valley, and puffing moodily away at a grimy old pipe he had purchased, together with some tobacco, from one of the Utes, with whom he worked.

He had not gone down to the crusher-house for his supper; he did not feel hungry, and was more contented here, in the mouth of the mine, where he could command a view of all that was going on in the valley.  With his pipe for a companion he was as happy as he could be, deprived as he was from association with the others of his color, who had barred him out in the cold.