"Is Pancho a name? Or a nickname?"
"Nickname. Usually short for Francisco."
Rick thought back over the past few days, and their meetings with Big Mac and Pancho. "Funny thing, Scotty. The casino is usually pretty busy, and mostly with men from Scarlet Lake. But instead of getting acquainted with many of them we always seem to sit near those two."
Scotty gave him a sideways glance. "What about it?"
"I think we do it instinctively," Rick went on. "Every time we walk in, they're deep in conversation. There's a kind of atmosphere about them, as though the talk is always very secret. None of the other men seem like that. They're more—well, open. No secrets. Know what I mean?"
Scotty nodded. "Now that you point it out, I do."
"So I think we sort of gravitate toward them automatically. On a hunch that we haven't even recognized, so to speak."
"Because there's more to be learned from them than from the others?"
"That's it!" Rick was glad he had finally put his feelings into words. "We'll keep an eye on those two," he said emphatically.
On the sixth day of their stay in Las Vegas, Lomac called. The boys hurried to the office and were told they could report to the base personnel office at once. They were given a map showing the location of the base. Scarlet Lake, they learned, was about two hours' drive northwest of Las Vegas.