‘Put her there, Al, old boy,’ he called in a big, booming, good-natured voice like a young bull’s.  ’Watched you go by and wondered if you weren’t coming in.  Haven’t seen you since old Buck was a calf.  Where you been keeping yourself?’ His big smile widened.  ’Courtot hasn’t got you hiding out, has he?’

’So you’ve heard that Courtot stuff, too?  Pony, this is a friend of mine; Mr. Longstreet, Pony Lee.’  While they shook hands Howard added:  ’Lee here knows more about practical mining than any other foot-loose stranger this side the Alleghanies.’

‘Draw it mild, Al,’ laughed Lee.  ’Glad to know you, Longstreet.  Think I’ve heard of you.’

He indicated chairs and the three sat down.  Longstreet, looking curiously at the man, noted that whereas he was florid and jolly and gave the impression at first almost of joviality, upon closer scrutiny that which was most pronounced about him was the keen glint of his probing grey eyes.  He came to learn later that Pony Lee had the reputation of being both a good fellow and a fighting man.

‘Longstreet wants to spin you a little yarn.’ said Howard.  ’And if you will see him through, I imagine he’s going to have a job open for you.’

‘Mine, of course?’ suggested Lee.

‘Yes.’

‘Have a cigar,’ invited Lee.  He produced a box from a desk drawer.  ‘See if I can guess where it is.  Other side of Big Run?’

Howard nodded.

‘Who found it?’

‘I did,’ answered Longstreet.  ‘Yesterday.’

‘Last Ridge country, then.  H’m.’  He rolled his cigar in his mouth idly.  Then he sat bolt upright and leaned forward.  ’How many people have you told about it already?  A dozen?’

It was little less than accusation, and Longstreet flushed.  He was opening his lips to answer stiffly when Howard spoke for him.

‘He is keeping it to himself.  He has told no one but me.’

Lee sank back in his chair, and when he spoke again it was in a careless, off-hand manner.

’Half an hour ago I saw Monte Devine.  He came tearing down the street, hell-bent-for-election.  Down at the saloon on the corner he picked up two men you know, Al.  One of them was Jake Bettins and the other was Ed True.  The three hit the pike at a regular two-forty clip for the Big Run road.  Those birds don’t go chasing around on a day like this just to get sunburn, do they?’

Howard frowned.  ‘Monte Devine?’ he muttered, staring at Lee.  But Lee, instead of taking the trouble to give the necessary assurance again, turned his eyes upon Longstreet.

‘Filed on your claim yet?’ he demanded.

‘Yes,’ retorted Longstreet, feeling inexplicably ill at ease and shifting in his chair.  ‘Immediately.’

‘That’s good,’ grunted Lee.  ’But I would be squatting on my diggings with a shot-gun under my arm.  Al, here, can tell you a few things about Monte Devine and his crowd.’