The deputy sheriff from Denver was not greatly moved; said he had heard tall stories before; knew how to boom a prospect-hole as well as the next man, and altogether made himself disagreeable by his air of unbelief and his sneering tone. It is wise, no doubt, to be cautious, but it is very unfortunate for a man, and especially for a young man, to get into such a state of mind that no statement is to be credited, nothing considered genuine, and no man accepted as honest and well-meaning.
As for the prisoners, they were sullen, irritated by the good fortune of those whom they had intended to ruin, and spent their time in planning vengeance upon Old Bob for misleading them and getting them into a scrape from which they could see no escape,—since, in fact, there was none.
“Fools aye see ither folk’s faults, and forget their ain,” Sandy informed them when he had become disgusted with their profane growling and threats.
Of all the company in the cabin, indeed, Sandy McKinnon, naturally, was the one most deeply interested in this marvelous find, which, for him, meant a sudden and unhoped-for good fortune out of his brief essay in America.
“Hech, man,” he cried out, “it’s jest the old days of Alladdin an’ his lamp—the open-sesame business, ye mind. Why, the riches o’ it must be untold!”