“At the very least,” declared Sam, “the gent should have paid us a hundred apiece.”
Bill nodded.
“You’re right about that, pal. He was right eager to git his paws on that kid. I wonder just what he wanted hunchy for?”
“No telling. I dunno; but I do know he wanted him a heap bad.”
“Lemme whisper something to yer, pal. I have heard a little something that aroused my suspicions. I reckon the kid is some lost heir, or something of that sort, and the gentleman what wants him is the individual who will profit by it if hunchy disappears from the face of the earth. That being the case, it is dead certain we might have squeezed the old guy for twice the money he paid us.”
At this both the men growled, and one of them struck the table with his clinched fist.
“Dern these false whiskers!” grated Sam, as he gave a jerk at them. “I am going to take mine off.”
“Don’t do it here, pal,” cautioned Bill. “Somebody may see yer. What will they think if ye do? You came in here wearing whiskers, and you can’t go out clean-shaved without attracting attention.”
“All right,” said Sam; “I’ll keep the things on till we mosey out of here, but I’m going to get rid of them at the first opportunity.”
“I’ve been thinking of something, pal,” nodded Bill. “I’ve been thinking we got out altogether too easy. We should have hit the bloke up for another fifty. I opine we might have frightened him into coughing up.”