"You've been a long time away," Shorty remarked, as he looked curiously at the young man.
"Yes, I suppose I have," was the absent-minded reply, for Reynolds was looking at his letters.
"Strike anything?"
"I believe so. But, say, is Frontier Samson here? Have you seen him lately?"
"W-why, no," Shorty stammered. He had overheard Curly's remarks, so this unexpected question somewhat embarrassed him. "He went with you, didn't he?"
"He certainly did, but I got lost out in the hills, and haven't seen the old man since. I hope nothing has happened to him."
Not a word of this escaped the men at the table, and when Reynolds had left the building they stared at one another for a few seconds.
"Did ye hear what he said about the gold?" Curly eagerly asked. "I believe he's struck it rich, an' most likely he has put Samson out of the way."
"But he asked about him, though," one of the men replied.
"Oh, that was just a ruse, an' nothing more. He wanted to find out if we suspect anything. I say, Shorty, bring us something," he ordered. "This is my treat."