For certainly a man playing
for potential stakes as big as those Enright was gaming for, would
intrust no cunning moves to a mere Broadway chorus-girl. No, Enright
was on the ground in person because the matter in prospect needed a
director, an excessively shrewd trickster, and the others were with him
to do his bidding. If Cavendish really lived, all their plans depended
on his being kept out of sight, disposed of, at least until they had
the money safe in their grasp.
He reached beneath the blanket and drew forth the dead Mexican's
revolver, slipped the weapon into his own belt, opened the door and
went out, closing it tightly behind him. Jose could lie there until
morning. While the darkness lasted he had work to do. His purpose
settled, there was no hesitancy in his movements. His was the code of
the West; his methods those of the desert and the mountains, the code
and method of a fighting man.
A dim trail, rock strewn, led to the spring, where it connected with an
ore road extending down the valley to Haskell. Another trail across
the spur shortened the distance to the La Rosita shaft-house.
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