The Sheriff's Son
would reach for his gun at the first evidence of crooked play.
No man in Battle Butte was a better poker psychologist than Dingwell, but to-night cards did not interest him. He was playing a bigger game. His subconscious mind was alert for developments. Since only his surface attention was given to poker he played close.
While Rutherford dealt the cards he talked at Dave. "So you 're expecting Sweeney, are you? Been having trouble with any one?"
"Or expect to have any?" interjected Meldrum, insolence in his shifty pig eyes.
"No, not looking for any," answered Dingwell amiably. "Fact is, I was prospecting around Lonesome Park and found a gold mine. Looks good, so I thought I'd tell Sweeney about it. … Up to me? I 've got openers." He pushed chips to the center of the table.
Rutherford also pushed chips forward. "I 'll trail along. … You got an idea of taking in Sweeney as a partner? I'm looking for a good investment. It would pay you to take me in rather than Sweeney."
Three of those at the table accepted this talk at its face value. They did not sense the tension underneath the apparently casual give-
49
