Further discussion of the topic was interrupted now by the cook, who appeared to announce his dinner served.  Beth and her maid were, therefore, directed by Van to a table set for two, while he, with Napoleon and Gettysburg for company, repaired to a place in the kitchen.

Beth was hungry.  She ate with all the relish of a mountaineer.  Algy, moreover, was a kitchen magician in the art of transforming culinary commonplaces into viands of toothsome delight.  Elsa became speechlessly busy.  Despite her wishes in the matter, Beth could hear the men talking beyond.

“So them convicts has hiked over this way already,” said the voice of Gettysburg distinctly.  “We heard from A. C. about the prison break, but he wasn’t on to which ones they was.”

“One is Matt Barger,” Van informed them.  “He’s the only one I know.”

“Matt Barger!  Not your Matt Barger?” demanded Gettysburg sharply.

Van nodded.  “Mine when I had him.”

Gettysburg arose excitedly.

“He ain’t come hunting fer you as quick as this?” he inquired uneasily.  “That ain’t what’s fetched him over to the desert?”

“Haven’t asked him,” answered Van.  “He promised to look me up if ever he got out alive.”

“Look you up!” Gettysburg was obviously over-wrought by the mere intelligence that Barger was at liberty.  “You know what he’ll do!  You know him, boy!  You know he’ll keep his word.  You can’t go foolin’ around alone.  You’ve got to be——­”

“Pass the beans,” Van interrupted.  He added more quietly:  “Sit down, Gett, and shut the front door of your face.”

Napoleon was eating, to “keep Van company.”  He pushed away his plate.

“Just our luck if these here derelicts was to foul us, skipper and crew,” he observed ruefully.  “Just our luck.”

Gettysburg sat down, adding:  “Why can’t you wait, Van, wait till the whole kit and boodle of us can move to the bran’-new claim?”

Van finished half a cup of coffee.

“I told you I should continue on without delay.  The horses will probably come to-night for all of you to follow me to-morrow.”

“Then why don’t you wait and go with us?” repeated Gettysburg.  “We’ll git there by noon, and you ain’t got nuthin’ to ride.”

The horseman answered:  “Suvy’s the prettiest gaited thing you ever saw—­when he gaits.”

“Holy toads!” said the older man apprehensively, “you ain’t sure-a-goin’ to tackle the outlaw today?”

“I’ve always felt we’d come to it soon or late,” was Van’s reply.  “And I’ve got to have a horse this afternoon.  We can’t kill each other but once.”

“Supposen he stoves in your pilot-house,” said Napoleon.  “What shall we do about the claim, and all this cargo, and everything?”

“The claim?  Work it, man, work it,” Van responded.  “What’s a mining claim for but to furnish good hard work for a couple of old ring-tailed galoots who’ve shirked it all their lives?”