"I know we can do it, Fitzsimmons," one man said. "And if we can, look what it means to us."
"Well, I am willing to take chances, Ruff," was the answer. "But we must be sure of that plan to get away."
"That's it," said another voice. "I don't want to run no risk of being caught, and——"
"Don't get scared before you are hurt, Soapy," said one of the other men. "I'll tell you how we can work this." And then the men got closer together and what followed Bob was unable to catch.
The young miner was astonished beyond measure. He was certain that two of the men in the next room were Sag Ruff and Soapy Gannon, his tool. The other man had been called Fitzsimmons.
"He must be the gambler Mark told about," said Bob to himself. "A fine trio they make! Every one of them ought to be in jail."
He tried his best to catch more of what was said, but a noise on the street made it next to impossible. He heard one man speak of some gold and another of horses, and then mention was made of pistols and the new trail, and that was all, a jumble out of which he could make neither head nor tail.
"They are surely up to no good and ought to be watched," Bob told himself, and then left the vicinity of the partition as the doctor came in.
Doctor Barrows was a man of middle age, tall, dark, and with a heavy beard and black eyes. He listened closely to what Bob had to say.
"Affected by the sun without a doubt," he said. "But he may have something else too. I ought to see him before I prescribe."