Mrs. Crump was grimly jubilant. She had just killed, not far from the shack which she inhabited, a rattler. It was a peculiarly deadly rattler, a big diamond-back, and its black-and-yellow body looked very beautiful lying out in the morning sunlight.

Mrs. Crump had killed that rattler most expertly; she had killed it with one snapping crack of a blacksnake whip. That one whip snap had coiled about the rattler’s head and had neatly decapitated the reptile. Somewhere among the rocks that head lay naked and ugly, jaws wide agape, white fangs gleaming like needles.

Now, up on the long hogback, Mrs. Crump directed the work of getting out ore, Lewis and Gilbert working steadily under her orders. There was already a goodly heap of ore ready for hauling. Mrs. Crump was awaiting the arrival of Coravel Tio, whom she expected hourly; she had written Coravel Tio very explicitly, and was looking forward to making some money in the near future.

When Coravel Tio arrived, they would arrange about getting a light truck to haul the ore to railroad, and they would arrange about selling the ore. Coravel Tio would handle all such details. Actual production was well under way, and inside of another month Mrs. Crump hoped to have a good force of men working. Provided, of course, that the mine was not sold outright.

“Looks like he’s a-coming.” Gilbert swung out his hand toward the trail from No Agua. Shading her eyes, Mrs. Crump perceived a smudge of white dust. An automobile was approaching.

It was not Coravel Tio who came, however. It was Sandy Mackintavers, driven in a hired car from Magdalena.

Mehitabel Crump was stiff-necked and uncompromising. She stood in the door of her shack, storm in her eyes, and waited grimly. Outside, sprawled on a bench that ran the length of the shack, Lewis and Gilbert smoked and also waited, ready to act if called upon.

Sandy Mackintavers left his automobile and approached the shack, quick to note the arrangements for his reception. He came up to the doorway where Mrs. Crump awaited him. He removed his hat as he came, and mopped his brow; the sun was pitiless, streaming down with direct and scorching glare, absolute and insufferable. In another hour or two it would be much worse. Sandy Mackintavers held his hat in his left hand; he extended his right hand, square-fingered and strong, to Mrs. Crump.

“Madam, I have come here as a friend. Will you shake hands with me?”

“Not by a damn’ sight!”

Mrs. Crump’s eyes were snapping dangerously. Her retort did not seem to affect Mackintavers, however. His square-hewn features assumed an oddly hypocritical expression of patient resignation. His hand remained extended.

“I must explain. Your friend Shea has repaid the money—you understand?”

“Reckon I do. What about it?”

“We had quite a conversation, Mrs. Crump. That man is a wonder! Yes’m. Most remarkable! I never did see things so clear as he made me see ’em, aiblins yes. If I may say so, I feel ashamed of myself. I’ve done some unhandsome things; aiblins, now, I’ll turn around. I’m right sorry for some things, Mrs. Crump. Will ye take my hand?”

Now, if there was anything which could shake the uncompromising hostility of Mrs. Crump, it was to hear her bitterest enemy praise Thady Shea. Aside from this, to hear Sandy Mackintavers express penitence for past sins, even to hear him admit that he had sinned, was an astounding thing. The incredibility of it was tremendous.

That mention of Thady Shea softened Mrs. Crump. She realized that Thady had made a great impression, had made so great an impression that here was Sandy Mackintavers, in the flesh, making apologies for past deeds!

“Well, Sandy,” she returned, bluntly, “I will say that I think ye to be more or less of a skunk. Howsomever, I’ll meet any man halfway—even you—when he talks that-a-way. I don’t guess we’d ever be bosom friends, but I don’t aim to be mean or ornery when a man’s tryin’ to be as white as his nature allows him. Here y’are.”

She seized his hand and shook it vigorously. Mackintavers looked rather red about the face, as though her frank opinion of his character had bitten into him.

“Now, if you have time to be talkin’ over a little matter o’ business——”

“About this here location?” Mrs. Crump’s eyes began to snap again.

“Yes.”

“Gilbert! Lewis! Come on in here. Meet Sandy Mackintavers. They’re members o’ the company, Sandy. They got claims along the caÑon, which same they turned in for stock. Stock ain’t issued yet, but that’s all right. Come on inside an’ talk.”

The lady was truculent and openly suspicious; the two men were narrow-eyed, hostile. Mackintavers seemed quite oblivious, and entered the shack. All four seated themselves. Mackintavers produced cigars. Mrs. Crump lighted her pipe and uttered a single emphatic word.

“Shoot!”

“You have a valuable mine here,” said Mackintavers, without preamble. “I want to control it. I’m talking frank and laying my cards on the table, ma’am. First, let me give you folks an idea of the railroad situation.”

He briefly described the prevalent car shortage, with the reasons therefore.

“You’ll get no ore cars until the war’s over, and maybe not then,” he pursued. “But I have a standing contract that can’t be broken, for so many cars a month—and I’m getting them. Ye see? Aiblins, now, that contract’s worth something; set your own figure on it. For the rest, I’ll buy stock at your own price, a controlling interest.”

“Sandy, who’d ever trust you once ye got your nose into this thing?” Mrs. Crump laughed scornfully. “Not me!”

“Then don’t trust me,” returned Sandy, meekly, although the veins in his temples swelled into blue cords. “Don’t trust me. Hire your own lawyers to draw up the matter, protect your interests fully. Give me charge of the actual mine, and then sit back an’ draw down the coin from your interest; savvy? If I’m not able to make millions out o’ this here mine, I’ll quit! Ain’t that frank talk? Ain’t I human? I tell ye, when that man Shea came along and turned back that money, I learned something!”

“Where’s Thady Shea now?” demanded Mrs. Crump.

“Went to St. Johns night before last, with Fred Ross and Bill Murray. Said he’d be here later, maybe. I like that man! Something about him kind o’ draws you. Aiblins, he’d be grand in the legislature, now! Eh? Well, well, about this mine matter; as I say, use any means ye like. I don’t blame you for not trusting me. But it’s a good thing and I’ll buy into it, savvy? Protect yourself, certainly. But why not let me buy into it? I have a bit of influence; aiblins, now, I’d be able to help production here an’ there, and to furnish no end of money for the work.”

The snap had gone out of Mrs. Crump’s blue eyes. They were suddenly warm, kindly, unguarded. Thady Shea in the legislature! Why not? And Sandy was dead right. Everyone seemed to be drawn to Thady Shea.

There was some subsequent discussion to which Mackintavers himself put an end.

“Let it hang fire for a day or so, Mis’ Crump. If ye don’t mind, I’ll hang around and look over the place and vicinity for my own self. Mebbe Shea will get back; the place is in his name, ain’t it? Understood so.”

“Yes,” assented Mrs. Crump, unthinking. “And each of us owns a third interest, or at least, so it’ll be arranged.”

“And the other third?” Mackintavers looked swiftly at her. “I heard somethin’ about a greaser up to Santy FÉ making inquiries with Eastern firms about strontianite—that old curio dealer—Coravel Tio! He ain’t the man, aiblins, now?”

“Yes. He’ll be here to-day, I hope. All right, Sandy, let her hang over a day or so. I don’t know but what we might consider it.”

Mrs. Crump felt suddenly cold at that mention of Coravel Tio. How much had he discovered? He must have learned through Eastern connections that Coravel Tio had been making inquiries. Was this pose of honesty a blind, or not? What lay behind this visit? Had anything happened to Thady Shea?

She cursed herself furiously for having been beguiled even into listening to Sandy Mackintavers. Yet—why not? His proposal offered no loophole for trickery. Mrs. Crump would have preferred to sell the place entirely; but to retire in security and draw down fat dividends would be a very comfortable thing.

Late in the afternoon arrived Coravel Tio. He was mildly surprised to see Mackintavers. He was urbane, shy, suave, and professed great ignorance of everything. He readily listened to the plan of Mackintavers, and discussed it; but he reserved any opinion on the matter.

Mackintavers had sent his hired car back to Magdalena, and would bunk with Gilbert and Lewis for the night. Coravel Tio had driven his own car, which was fitted with a camping outfit. He made his own little camp down the caÑon.

Late that evening, after all hands had retired to rest, Mrs. Crump picked her way down the rocky slope and joined Coravel Tio, who sat smoking beside his car.

“This here location is gettin’ right crowded,” she began, irritably, settling down and filling her corncob. “No chance even to speak a word no more! Well, what d’ye think o’ this scheme? Don’t it look to you like Sandy was tryin’ to catch us off balance and topple us over?”

Coravel Tio showed his white teeth in a slow smile.

“SeÑora, let us go slowly. Let us go slowly. I really do not think that Mackintavers intends that we should consider his offer seriously. I think he is tricky about it. Well, he is about to come to a very high precipice, and is about to fall over that precipice; you see, I know something. I have information of which he is not aware. I have information which will prove very dangerous to him.

“About the mine. I have corresponded with the Williams Manufacturing Company of New Jersey, who are large manufacturers of chemical products. They will buy this location outright, should it prove up to the samples we sent. They are of the very highest standing and reputation; I have dealt with them for years. One of their men is due here any day; in fact, he is overdue. His name is James Z. Premble. He will be empowered to make full negotiations with us. Until he arrives, let us not worry about Mackintavers.”

“Mebbe that’s how come Sandy learned about your stake in the game; he knew you’d been correspondin’ with somebody,” and Mrs. Crump frowned. “My land! He’s in with a heap o’ them mining sharps, Coravel. They know all about each other.”

Coravel Tio smiled gently. “Very likely, seÑora. However, this firm is entirely above suspicion. Now, we must find your friend Shea at once; that is imperative. The property is recorded in his name, you remember.”

“Sandy knows that, too,” said Mrs. Crump, her eyes troubled. “He knows too damned much, if you ask me!”

“Fear not, seÑora. He has been meddling with forbidden things, things which bring their own punishment. He has been meddling with things that I would not meddle with! By the way, I met a very interesting man the other day; one Thomas Twofork, an Indian from the Cochiti pueblo, recently returned from an Eastern college. You would enjoy meeting him. A very fine young man.”

Mrs. Crump grunted. “I’d admire to know just what’s laying back in your mind, Coravel Tio! Now, why the devil would I want to know any Injun buck like him? What’s he to me?”

Coravel Tio laughed softly and puffed at his cigarette.

“Ah! I cannot say, seÑora. I am a curio dealer, no more. I know nothing at all about such things as these. But I know that Thomas Twofork is a very interesting man.”

With the following morning Mrs. Crump took Mackintavers over the ground and the adjacent claims. Coravel Tio complained of the heat, and did not accompany them. Instead, he stood out in the sun, heedless of the heat, and watched Lewis and Gilbert at work. He talked with them at some length, and they seemed much interested in his discourse. By this time they knew a little more about Coravel Tio than they had known at their first meeting with him.

“What do you figger is goin’ to happen, then?” demanded Lewis, when he had finished.

“I do not know.” Coravel Tio shrugged his shoulders. “But it is well to know what might have to be done, eh? Ah, yes.”

The morning wore on. Mrs. Crump retired to her own shack to cook luncheon, with much grumbling about the way the country was getting crowded up, and if many more folks came in she’d have to seek other quarters, and so on. Secretly, she was much pleased to exhibit her culinary skill, which was considerable.

At length she energetically hammered a pie pan, and the four men assembled. Gilbert was the last to come in from the mine over the flank of the hogback.

“Looks like some puncher is headed this way,” he announced, eagerly. “Feller comin’ on hossback, looks like he’s headin’ down from that big caÑon north of here.”

“My land!” ejaculated Mrs. Crump in dismay. “Wait till I get another plate set.”

“No hurry,” returned Gilbert. “I seen him top a rise four mile north. Ain’t no rush, ma’am. He’ll be quite a spell gettin’ here. Lots o’ bad land in between and no trail.”

They sat down to the meal.

Outside, the sun was beating down in waves of heat. It was a pitiless, insufferable sun. Few things could stand that beating, merciless sun and still enjoy it. Out among the stones, what was left of the big diamond-back was withered and scorched. Some distance away, the head of the rattler lay among the rocks, dead jaws wide agape, white fangs gleaming like needles in the beating sunlight.

Inside the shack, the heat was intense; it filled the caÑon as heat fills an oven, and here was no cool adobe walls to break its force. The heat had odd and curious effects upon the five people gathered there. It did not seem to touch Coravel Tio or the two miners in the least. Mackintavers it coarsened and reddened and thickened with pitiless breath. Mrs. Crump it softened; flushed and perspiring from cooking, she seemed to have become less harsh, more feminine, altogether transformed.

Suddenly, while they were eating, Coravel Tio looked up sharply and appeared to be listening. Then, one after another, the others glanced up, surprise in their eyes. The sharp and staccato pulse of an approaching automobile was to be heard. Another car!

Mrs. Crump led the exodus. Beside her own car and that of Coravel Tio, a third car was standing; a hired car from Magdalena, the same which had brought Mackintavers on the previous day. From this car alighted a man who carried a suitcase and bag, upon each of which were printed the letters J. Z. P. He was a man of citified aspect, and he approached the party clumped around the shack doorway with a stiff gaze and a businesslike air.

“I am looking for a lady by the name of Crump, Mrs. Crump,” said he, setting down his suitcase and doffing his hat to the lady in question. “I presume that you are the lady named; if so you may be expecting me. My name is James Z. Premble.”

Mrs. Crump recovered from her surprise and stepped forward.

“I’m her,” she announced. “Glad to meet ye, Premble. Here, let me heft them grips inside the shack.”

Gilbert, however, was ahead of her in the task. But James Z. Premble disregarded them both. He had come to a staring pause. Across his city-pale features swept an expression of amazement and gusty anger. His eyes were fastened upon Sandy Mackintavers, and back at him was staring Mackintavers, wearing a look of consternation. Mr. Premble lifted one arm and shook a milk-white fist in air.

“You low-down hound!” he snapped at Sandy. “Didn’t I warn you to keep away from me? What are you trying to——”

“Shut your fool mouth!” roared Mackintavers. “No need of airing things here.”

“I’ll say what I dashed please!” affirmed Premble, glaring. “I suppose you own this place, eh? I suppose you told some lying tale and these people swallowed it! Well, you can’t shut me up. You can’t gag me! You’re about the worst swindler that ever kept out of State’s prison, get that? You may be running this place, but you’ll not run me.”

“Hush up, pilgrim!” Mrs. Crump stepped in front of Premble and assumed charge of the situation. “Hush up! Sandy don’t own this place, and he ain’t runnin’ nothin’. You a friend of his?”

“Friend? Friend?” Mr. Premble hoarsely gasped the word. “I wouldn’t be his friend if he would give me a million dollars! I wouldn’t be his friend if I was the last man and he was the last woman on earth! Why, that rogue played the worst low-down trick on me over in El Paso that——”

“Well, repress the sentiments,” urged Mrs. Crump, calmly. “I guess we coincide with your feelin’s, more or less, but at the present moment Sandy is a guest on this here prop’ty, which same prop’ty belongs to me, more or less. You’re a guest likewise and I don’t aim to have no ruction start between two o’ my guests. I don’t know you, Mr. Premble, and I don’t know as I want to know ye, having a mean and rollin’ eye like you have; but you’re here on business and that goes as it lays. No war talk! Savvy?”

With a mighty effort Mr. Premble composed his features.

“Very well, madam, very well,” he returned, stiffly. “You may depend upon it, there will be no more trouble—unless I meet this man the other side of your property line.”

“You won’t,” said Mrs. Crump, grimly. “Come on in and set to dinner. Gilbert, you done? Then call that there driver to come up and have a bite, will ye? No words out’n you, neither, Sandy Mackintavers. Gents, come inside an’ smoke up and entertain Mr. Premble. I’ll get them ’tatoes het up in a mite.”

First to enter the shack was James Z. Premble. He passed Mackintavers, standing at the door, and glared at him. Then, as he passed on into the shack, the features of Mr. Premble relaxed into the fleetest and most momentary shadow of a grin.