Belding returned home without going to see the Chases and their
operations. He wanted to think over the situation. Next morning he
went out to the valley to see for himself. Mexicans were hastily
erecting adobe houses upon Ladd's one hundred and sixty acres, upon
Dick Gale's, upon Jim Lash's and Thorne's. There were men staking
the valley floor and the river bed. That was sufficient for
Belding. He turned back toward town and headed for the camp of
these intruders.
In fact, the surroundings of Forlorn River, except on the river
side, reminded Belding of the mushroom growth of a newly discovered
mining camp. Tents were everywhere; adobe shacks were in all
stages of construction; rough clapboard houses were going up.
The latest of this work was new and surprising to Belding, all
because he was a busy man, with no chance to hear village gossip.
When he was directed to the headquarters of the Chase Mining
Company he went thither in slow-growing wrath.
He came to a big tent with a huge canvas fly stretched in front,
under which sat several men in their shirt sleeves. They were
talking and smoking.
"My name's Belding. I want to see this Mr. Chase," said Belding,
gruffly.
Slow-witted as Belding was, and absorbed in his own feelings, he
yet saw plainly that his advent was disturbing to these men. They
looked alarmed, exchanged glances, and then quickly turned to
him. One of them, a tall, rugged man with sharp face and shrewd
eyes and white hair, got up and offered his hand.
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