“Says I, lookin’ at his side elevation, ’What’s accented your middle syllable so strong, Mexico?’

“‘Prosperity, politics, an’ the Waldorf-Astorier,’ says he.  It seems Mex hadn’t forgot old days.  He claws me into a corner an’ says, ‘Bill, I’m goin’ to pay you back for that Moralez deal.’

“‘It ain’t comin’ to me,’ says I.  ‘That’s a bygone!’

“‘Listen here,’ says he, an’, seein’ he was in earnest, I let him run on.

“‘How much do you value that claim o’ yourn at?’

‘"Hard tellin’,’ says I.  ’If she holds out like she run last fall, there’d ought to be a million clear in her.”

“‘How much’ll you clean up this summer?’

“‘’Bout four hundred thousand, with luck.’

“‘Bill,’ says he, ‘there’s hell a-poppin’ an’ you’ve got to watch that ground like you’d watch a rattle-snake.  Don’t never leave ’em get a grip on it or you’re down an’ out.’

“He was so plumb in earnest it scared me up, ’cause Mexico ain’t a gabby man.

“‘What do you mean?’ says I.

“‘I can’t tell you nothin’ more.  I’m puttin’ a string on my own neck, sayin’ this much.  You’re a square man, Bill, an’ I’m a gambler, but you saved my life oncet, an’ I wouldn’t steer you wrong.  For God’s sake, don’t let ’em jump your ground, that’s all.’

“‘Let who jump it?  Congress has give us judges an’ courts an’ marshals—­’ I begins.

“‘That’s just it.  How you goin’ to buck that hand?  Them’s the best cards in the deck.  There’s a man comin’ by the name of McNamara.  Watch him clost.  I can’t tell you no more.  But don’t never let ’em get a grip on your ground.’  That’s all he’d say.”

“Bah!  He’s crazy!  I wish somebody would try to jump the Midas; we’d enjoy the exercise.”

The siren of the Santa Maria interrupted, its hoarse warning throbbing up the mountain.

“We’ll have to get aboard,” said Dextry.

“Sh-h!  What’s that?” the other whispered.

At first the only sound they heard was a stir from the deck of the steamer.  Then from the water below them came the rattle of rowlocks and a voice cautiously muffled.

“Stop!  Stop there!”

A skiff burst from the darkness, grounding on the beach beneath.  A figure scrambled out and up the ladder leading to the wharf.  Immediately a second boat, plainly in pursuit of the first one, struck on the beach behind it.

As the escaping figure mounted to their level the watchers perceived with amazement that it was a young woman.  Breath sobbed from her lungs, and, stumbling, she would have fallen but for Glenister, who ran forward and helped her to her feet.

“Don’t let them get me,” she panted.

He turned to his partner in puzzled inquiry, but found that the old man had crossed to the head of the landing ladder up which the pursuers were climbing.

“Just a minute—­you there!  Back up or I’ll kick your face in.”  Dextry’s voice was sharp and unexpected, and in the darkness he loomed tall and menacing to those below.