“He has gone off to get permission of the chief to burn you at sunrise,” said he spitefully.
“Sho!” said I, for I knew that Henderson had made this all up out of his own head. “Then he won’t get the money.”
“That’s the only thing that makes me think he won’t do it,” said Henderson. “But you will be gone up the next time you come here. How did you know that we were after the money, anyway?”
I repeated what I had said to Bill, and that was nothing but the truth.
“There were three white men in the party, and they said, from the way you went about it, they were satisfied that there were some renegades bossing the job,” answered I; and then I was almost sorry I said it. I did not know how they would take the name “renegades,” as applied to themselves; but Henderson was the only one who understood it.
“And what made us renegades?” he asked, and I believed that the presence of the men was all that kept him from doing something desperate. “We killed almost all the guards at the first fire—I got two of them, I know, and I wish we had got them all. Renegades! That is a vile and worthless fellow,” he added, turning to the men who were sitting around. “That’s the kind of men you be.”
Some of the men laughed, while others acted as though they didn’t care what men’s opinions were of them so long as they were permitted to enjoy themselves. I saw that Henderson was trying to work the men up to do something to me before Coyote Bill could get back, and I didn’t think any more of him for it.
“Thar is one thing about that attack that I shall always be sorry for,” said one of the fierce-looking men. “You know I, for one, had occasion to look out for the muels that had the specie onto them. Tony here got the man, an’ I shot the muel through the neck. I could swear to that. Well, that thar muel turned an’ run like he never run before, an’ got away with the Injuns completely. He took right down by your ranch too. Didn’t see nothing of him, I reckon, did you?”
I shook my head.
“Well, thar’s a kind of a lucky feller down your way, I don’t know what his name is, who has a mighty fine chance of findin’ pocket-books when everybody else is done lookin’ for them, an’ I didn’t know but what he might try his hand at findin’ that muel with five thousand dollars in specie strapped onto him. That would be a pretty good haul for him, wouldn’t it?”