"Some of Cimarron Bill's delectable gang. They averred they had disposed of you for good and all."
"Waugh! No let such cheap carrion kill me!" said Joe. "They mebbe think some they do it. Joe he fool um heap lot."
"But where have you been?"
"Oh, all away round," was the answer, with a wide sweep of the arm. "Joe him scout—him find out how land lay. Do a little biz."
"Do business? What sort of business?"
"Catch the sucker some."
"Catch the sucker? What's that?"
The redskin flung open his dirty red blanket and tapped a fat belt about his waist, which gave back a musical clink.
"Play the game of poke'," he exclaimed. "Make heap plenty mon'."
"You've been gambling again?"