The Argosy, Volume XLIV — page 109: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE GOLD two files, captained by the Brobding- nagian solution tank, which overtopped them all. Standing there, idly watching and waiting, the manager wondered what had become of the night watchman whose bobbing lantern was always to be seen among the tanks at that hour. Possibly he was behind the second row, giving his attention to the valves that regulated the flow of solution. Thus assuring himself, Whipple turned from the window with a yawn and resumed his seat near the furnace. In doing so, however, he pushed the chair around so that his back would be to the wall and his face to the door. Slowly the minutes dragged by, and once more Whipple yawned. ““Saturday night is the time to strike,’ ”’ he said to himself, repeating the pregnant words penciled on the card; “this is Saturday night, and the hour is late. Why doesn’t the blow fall? ” a | | Even as the words were in his mind a crunch of footsteps in the sand came to his ears. “Only one,” he thought, allowing his right hand to slip into his jacket pocket where he earried a revolver. The next moment a form darkened the doorway. “Are you in here, Mr. Whipple?” called the voice of Tom Travis, as the form entered the office. “I’m here, Henderson,” the man- ager answered, “on guard.” “On guard?” echoed Tom. “Yes, the treasure, you know; it’s just as well to watch it.” “J didn’t know that was keeping you or | should have been here before.” “Oh, I didn’t mind staying. Sit down; there’s a chair by the furnace.” “Why haven’t you got a light?” “T’m fond of the darkness—some- times.” “It’s eleven o’clock,’ said Tom, groping his way to the chair and seat- ing himself. ‘T thought it must be getting along toward that time.” Whipple conversed in his usual tone of voice, but his hand never once left the handle of his revol- ver. “ How do you like your work here, Henderson? ” GLEA NERS. 105 ‘“‘ First rate,’ answered Tom heart- ily. “I think Miss Travis will soon teach me the ins and outs of cyaniding, and then I can get big pay running a plant somewhere else.” “Possibly. If any one can teach you the work, Henderson, it’s Miss Travis. she’s got it all right at her finger-ends. By the way, did you hear of that trouble they had at Cache d’Oro some time ago?” What trouble?” “Why, the killing of that miner— Brander, I think his name was.” “ Jeffries was telling me about it this afternoon while we were putting a new burlap bottom in Tank No. 10,” Tom answered in an unconcerned tone. “IT hope they'll capture the scoundrels. There has been a good deal of lawless- ness in this part of the country re- cently, Jeffries was saying.” “Yes, quite a good deal.” Whipple got up to leave. “I hope there'll be none here to-night.” “What do you mean? ” came sharply from Tom. “We've got five thousand in bullion around the office, you know, and it would be a plum worth while if some of these lawless rascals made a try for it.” “Oh, Pl be here.” “Of course.” Whipple moved _ to- ward the door, his hand still on the re- volver, and his face constantly toward Tom. “ Don’t neglect ‘keeping a good watch on the safe.”’ “Trust me for that,” said Tom with a short laugh. “I'll sleep with one eye open.” | “Did you and Jeffries get the tank repaired?” Whipple was now at the door, listening for any sounds outside, and flashing a sharp glance through the lighter darkness in front of the build- ing. “ Yes, it’s all ready to be filled with tailings Monday morning.” “You have a revolver, Henderson? ”’ “YT make it a point to keep myself armed in this country, Mr. Whipple.” Whipple knew that the young man had had a weapon the night before. He merely wanted to learn whether he would admit having it now. “Tf you should have anv trouble COMRRIC LOO COL