Jones," began Stoddard in the slow, measured tones of a priest who
invokes the only god he knows, "I'm a man of few words--now you can
take this or leave it. I'll give you--fifty--million--dollars!"

"Nothing doing!" answered Rimrock. "I don't want to sell. Will you
take fifty millions for yours?"

For a moment Stoddard hesitated, then his face became set and his voice
rasped harshly in his throat.

"No!" he said. "I came here to buy. And you'll live to wish you had
sold!"

"Like hell!" retorted Rimrock. "This has been my day. I'll know where
I'm at, from now on."

CHAPTER XVI

THE TIGER LADY

The winter came on with its rains and soft verdure and desert shrubs
bursting with bloom and, for a man who professed to know just exactly
where he was at, Rimrock Jones was singularly distrait. When he cast
down the glove to Whitney H. Stoddard, that glutton for punishment who
had never quit yet, he had looked for something to happen. Each
morning he rose up with the confident expectation of hearing that the
Old Juan was jumped; but that high, domelike butte remained as lifeless
as ever, without a single guard to herd the apex claim. Then he fell
to watching Jepson and talking to the miners and snooping for some
hidden scheme, but Jepson went ahead with his machine-like efficiency
until the Tecolote began to turn out ore.

Day and night the low thunder of the powerful batteries told of the
milling of hundreds of tons; and the great concentrator, sprawling down
on the broad hillside, washed out the copper and separated it from the
muck. Long trains of steel ore-cars received the precious concentrates
and bore them off to the distant smelters, and at last there came the
day when the steady outpay ceased and the money began to pile up in the
bank. L. W.'s bank, of course; for since the fatal fight he had been
Rimrock's banker and bosom friend. But that ended the long wait. At
the sight of all that money Rimrock Jones began to spend.

For a year and more Rimrock had been careful and provident--that is,
careful and provident for him. Six months of that time had been spent
in the County Jail, and since then he had been watching Stoddard. But
now Whitney H. Stoddard--and Jepson, too--were uniformly polite and
considerate. There was no further question--whatever Rimrock ordered
was done and charged up to the Company. That had been Stoddard's
payment for his share of the mine, and now the money was pouri