Darrell, who was carefully refraining from betraying any special
interest in the party across the aisle, soon became aware that he was
not the only interested listener to the conversation. In the section
directly in front of the one occupied by Whitcomb and his companions a
man was seated, apparently engrossed in a newspaper, but Darrell, who
had a three-quarter view of his face, soon observed that he was not
reading, but listening intently to the conversation of the men seated
behind him, and particularly to young Whitcomb's share in it. Upon
hearing the latter's statement that he had with him the cash returns for
the shipment of bullion, Darrell saw the muscles of his face suddenly
grow tense and rigid, while his hands involuntarily tightened their hold
upon the paper. He grew uncomfortable under Darrell's scrutiny, moved
restlessly once or twice, then turning, looked directly into the
piercing dark eyes fixed upon him. His own eyes, which were small and
shifting, instantly dropped, while the dark blood mounted angrily to his
forehead. A few moments later, he changed his position so that Darrell
could not see his face, but the latter determined to watch him and to
give Whitcomb a word of warning at the earliest opportunity.
"Well," said Parkinson, leaning back in his seat after examining the
ores and listening to Whitcomb's outline of their plans for the future
development of the mine, "it seems to me, young man, you have quite a
knowledge of mines and mining yourself."
Whitcomb flushed with pleasure. "I ought to," he said; "there isn't a
man in this western country that understands the business better or has
got it down any finer than my uncle. He may not be able to talk so
glibly or use such high-sounding names for things as you fellows, but he
can come pretty near telling whether a mine will pay for the handling,
and if it has any value he generally knows how to go to work to find
it."
"Well, that's about the 'gist' of the whole business," said Parkinson;
he added: "You say he can give me some 'tips' on the Ajax?"
"He can if he chooses to," laughed Whitcomb, "but you'd better not let
him know that I said so. He'll be more likely to give you information if
you ask him offhand."
"Well," continued Parkinson, "when we get to Ophir, I'll know whether or
not I can stop over. I've heard there's another fellow out here on this
Ajax business; whether he's ahead of me I don't know. I'll make
inquiries when we reach Ophir, and if he hasn't come on the scene yet I
can afford to lay off; if he has, I must lose no time in getting out to
the mine." Parkinson glanced at Hunter, who nodded almost imperceptibly.