Bostwick was eager.

“On something good for the—­for our little group?”

“On a wild goose seance,” answered McCoppet.  “He’s in the way around here.”

“Oh,” said Bostwick, who failed to understand.  “I thought——­”

“Yes.  I culled your thought from your letters,” interrupted his host drawlingly.  “We might as well understand each other first as last.  Bostwick—­are you out here to work this camp my way or the kid’s?”

Bostwick was cautious.  “How does he wish to work it?”

“Like raising potatoes.”

“And your plan is——­”

“Look here, do I stack up like a Sunday-school superintendent?  I thought you and I understood each other.  I don’t run no game the other man can maybe beat.  Didn’t you come out here with that understanding?”

“Certainly, I——­”

“Then never mind the kid.  What have you got in your kahki?”

“Our syndicate to buy the Hen Hawk group——­” started Bostwick, but the gambler cut in sharply.

“That’s sold and cold.  You have to move here; things happen.  What did you do about the reservation permit?”

Bostwick looked about the room furtively, and edged his chair a bit closer.

“I secured permission from Government headquarters to explore all or any portions of the reservation, and take assistants with me,” he imparted in a lowered tone of voice.  “I had it mailed to me here by registered post.  It should be at the post-office now.”

“Right,” said McCoppet with more of an accent of approval in his utterance.  “Get it out to-day.  I’ve got your corps of assistants hobbled here in camp.  They can get on the ground to-morrow morning.”

Bostwick’s eyes were gleaming.

“There’s certainly gold on this reservation?”

“Now, how can anybody tell you that?” demanded McCoppet, who from his place here in Goldite had engineered the plan whereby his and Bostwick’s expert prospectors could explore every inch of the Government’s forbidden land in advance of all competitors.  “We’re taking a flyer, that’s all.  If there’s anything there—­we’re on.”

Bostwick reflected for a moment.  “There’s nothing at present that our syndicate could do?”

“There’ll be plenty of chances to use ready money,” McCoppet assured him, rising.  “You’re here on the ground.  Keep your shirt on and leave the shuffling to me.”

Bostwick, too, arose.  “How long will young Kent be away?”

“As long as I can keep him busy out South.”

“What is he doing out South?”

“Locating a second Goldite,” said the gambler.  “Keeps him on the move.”  He threw away his chewed cigar, placed a new one in his mouth, and started for the door.  “Come on,” he added, “I’ll identify you over at the postoffice and show you where you sleep.”

CHAPTER XIV