“It is just as I expected,” said his uncle; “they are two squawmen beyond a doubt. You were to do nothing but get the key?”
“No, sir. They thought that was enough. I am not to be mixed up in the matter until it is all over.”
“Well, you go ahead, and when you come into my room I will come out to them. Good-night.”
This was all that was said. Claude sat there in his chair and saw his uncle go into the house, and he felt his guiltiness. Mr. Preston did not say a word about rewarding him, and acted altogether as though he did not consider the matter of much moment.
“Does he intend to leave me out in the cold, I wonder?” soliloquized Claude. “If so, I am sorry I did not stay in with the squawmen. He is suspicious; I can see that plain enough. I wish the thing was over, and that the men were safe among the Sioux Indians.”
Mr. Preston had not passed a sleepless night. He got up bright and early, wished everybody good-morning, and one would not have supposed that he had listened to an astounding revelation the night before. He gave his orders in much the same way at the breakfast-table, and when he had seen the herdsmen go away he filled his pipe and sat on the porch to enjoy it. But there were two men about the house who, according to Claude’s way of thinking, acted as though they wanted to pitch into the squawmen then and there, and end the matter. They were Thompson and the cook. The former glared savagely at them as he took his seat on the opposite side of the table, and the cook hung around the door of the dining-room, and that was a thing he had never done before, and waited for them to say or do something. Claude was in a fever of suspense. He saw it all plain enough, even if the squawmen did not.
“Say, Claude, you have been saying something to the old man,” said Harding, as the three moved off in a body to carry out Mr. Preston’s commands. “If you have, you may bet your bottom dollar that you won’t see any of his money.”
As the squawman spoke he laid his hand upon his revolver and scowled at Claude in a way that made him tremble. He knew what his fate would be if he did anything to confirm the man’s suspicions.
“What would I say to the old man?” he asked in a faint voice. “I am as deep in the mud as you are.”
“What made the foreman and cook look so cross at us?” asked Harding in reply.