"You did a complete job," he said, eyeing the other narrowly. "And there doesn't seem to be any evidence. But look out! When a thing like that happens there's always somebody around to see it, and if I can get evidence against you I'll send you up for it!"
He noted a slight quickening of Trevison's eyes at his mention of a witness, and a fierce exultation leaped within him.
Trevison laughed, looking the other fairly between the eyes. Rosalind Benham hadn't informed on him. However, the day was not yet gone.
"Get your evidence before you try to do any bluffing," he challenged. He spurred Nigger on, not looking back at his enemy.
Corrigan rode to the laborers' tents, where he talked for a time with the cook. In the mess tent he stood with his back to a rough, pine-topped table, his hands on its edge. The table had not yet been cleared from the morning meal, for the cook had been interested in the explosion. He tried to talk of it with Corrigan, but the latter adroitly directed the conversation otherwise. The cook would have said they had a pleasant talk. Corrigan seemed very companionable this morning. He laughed a little; he listened attentively when the cook talked. After a while Corrigan fumbled in his pockets. Not finding a cigar, he looked eloquently at the cook's pipe, in the latter's mouth, belching much smoke.
"Not a single cigar," he said. "I'm dying for a taste of tobacco."
The cook took his pipe from his mouth and wiped the stem hastily on a sleeve. "If you don't mind I've been suckin' on it," he said, extending it.
"I wouldn't deprive you of it for the world." Corrigan shifted his position, looked down at the table and smiled. "Luck, eh?" he said, picking up a black brier that lay on the table behind him. "Got plenty of tobacco?"
The cook dove for a box in a corner and returned with a cloth sack, bulging. He watched while Corrigan filled the pipe, and grinned while his guest was lighting it.
"Carson'll be ravin' today for forgettin' his pipe. He must have left it layin' on the table this mornin'--him bein' in such a rush to get down, to the explosion."
"It's Carson's, eh?" Corrigan surveyed it with casual interest. "Well," after taking a few puffs "--I'll say for Carson that he knows how to take care of it."