"Martin H. Greenberg & Mark Tier - Visions of Liberty" - читать интересную книгу автора (Greenberg Martin H)

went hungry. Early the next morning he walked back over the mountain to the Laughingstock. All of the
camp's men came along to make certain he didn't get lost. The loaded mules came, too, and the men
took turns pushing cartloads of ore.

"Paths look different going the other way," Kit Grumery explained.

At the Laughingstock settlement, he took his leave of his Last Hope companions and went directly to the
office and asked to see the manager. A different clerk was on duty, and for a second time Dantler
presented his credentials. He was admitted to the manager's office at once and greeted by Ed Mullard, a
grizzled oldster who had spent his life scratching for pay dirt and finally rode to riches on the coattails of
someone luckier than he who found the Laughingstock claim.

He scowled at Dantler's credentials, then scowled more fiercely at Dantler. "I hope you're not about to
interfere with our operations. There's nothing for the GBI to investigate here."

"My information is that you harbored a murderer. That's what I want to know about."

Mullard leaned back and stared at Dantler. "If there's ever been a murderer on this claim, it's news to
me."

"A man named Roger Lefory came to work for you immediately after murdering a fellow worker at Last
Hope."

"Lefory," Mullard mused. "Yes, I do remember him because he was always complaining about
something. But I had no idea he was a murderer."

"Tell me about him," Dantler said.

Mullard leaned back and meditated. "For one thing, he was the most accident-prone man I've ever met.
Mining is a dangerous business, and things do happen, but with Lefory it got to be ridiculous. Tunnels
only seemed to collapse while he was in them. Scaffolding gave way only when he was passing it.
Machinery failed dangerously only when he was tending it. Hot water spilled only when he was there to
get burned. He kept complaining that his fellow workers arranged these accidents, which of course was
nonsense. No one could have arranged all that. They were the sort of things that are bound to occur from
time to time, and he happened to be unlucky. Finally a gear broke on a tipcart loaded with ore, and he
was buried up to his neck and had to be dug out. He just missed being buried alive. The next day he
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turned up missing. There's a passenger car on every ore train, so it's easy for men to desert if for any
reason they don't like their work here."

"Do you know where he went?"

"To Pummery. That's where all the ore trains go. He found a job at one of the smelters. I received a
notice with the usual request for his work history."

"Did you send down his personal effects and any wages he had due him?"