“Are you satisfied now?” asked Bill. “If you are, we are going.”
“That pocket-book is somewhere about this ranch, and I know it,” said Henderson. “I don’t like to give it up.”
But all the same, when he saw his companions mounting their horses, in readiness to go away, he followed their example. They went away without saying a good word to us. Tom settled back in his chair and crossed his legs, while I filled my pipe and looked at him.
CHAPTER IX.
HENDERSON IS ASTONISHED.
“Where is all your luck gone now, Tom?” I enquired.
“It’s gone,” said Tom disconsolately, “and I am left here flat on my back. I could have taken my oath that the pocket-book was hidden somewhere about that bed. What do you suppose made that Coyote Bill so friendly with you? If there had been any other man than you here he would have talked rough to him.”
“And perhaps have done something rough,” I added. “I don’t know what made him act so, unless he had an idea that he was going to get me to go off with him. He is going to see some trouble some day. But what about breakfast? I am getting hungry.”
“Let us put some of these stones back where they belong and cook our breakfast in here,” said Tom. “Somehow I don’t feel like going out in the woods. That pocket-book is concealed around here, and I would like to know where it is.”
I shrugged my shoulders, and seized a bucket to go out and bring some water, and Tom, taking that as an answer that he could guess the matter as well as I, went in to put some of the stones back in the fireplace. I was not gone more than ten minutes, and when I came back I found Tom on the porch fairly convulsed with excitement. He could hardly stand still.