Without saying a word, Claus unbuttoned his vest, worked at something on the inside, and presently hauled out a belt, which he handed over to Bob. It did not stick out as though there was much money in it, and when Bob began to investigate it, all he drew forth was twenty-five dollars.
"You are a wealthy millionaire, I understood you to say," exclaimed Bob, in great disgust. "This looks like it!"
"I told you, when I had purchased the pack-mule, provisions and tools, that I should not have much left," answered Claus. "That's all I have, and if you take it from me I shall starve."
"Stand up!" commanded Jake, who was as disgusted as Bob was. "You are sure you haven't got any about your clothes? But, first, I'll take possession of that revolver."
The revolver having been disposed of, Jake then turned his attention to feeling in all Claus's pockets, but he found nothing more there—Claus had evidently given them the last cent he had.
"Take your little bills," said Bob, throwing Claus's belt back to him. "If you are careful of them, they will serve you till you get back to Denver."
"And when you get there, you can go to one of those men who own that block of buildings and borrow another thousand or two. Now, get out of here!" put in Jake.
"I thank you for this much," returned Claus. "But I should thank you a good deal more if you would give me my revolver. I may want it before I reach Denver."
"Give it to him, Jake. He hasn't pluck enough to shoot at us or anybody else. Make yourself scarce about here!"
"They think they are awful smart!" thought Claus, when he had placed some bushes between him and the robbers. "Why didn't they think to look in my shoe? I have three hundred dollars that they don't know anything about. Now I guess I'll go back to St. Louis; and if anybody ever says anything to me about an 'old horse,' I'll knock him down."