. . .s of low-grade telluride ore were transmuted weekly into a certain number of ounces of gold and silver, was the breath of life to Bison. If it stopped, the greater part of the little town’s inhabitants was aware instantly of bare cupboards and empty pockets. Work might cease at the mines for varying periods without causing vital harm to the community; but the metal pulses of the mill must beat with regularity, or Bison suffered from a severe form of heart disease. Consequently, there was no rush to volunteer information; though some of those present had had their sus[Pg 56]picions that all was not as it should be with the giant whose clamant voice rang ever in their ears.

“Some books and things was carted from the office to Denver a-Wednesday,” said the know-all who had spoken about the mortgage.

“Why?”

The storekeeper’s tone was ominous, and the other man grinned uneasily.

“Guess it’. . . Read More