“I am, if it were not for that little nuisance he has picked up somewhere. You see it was just this way.”
With this introduction Henderson went on and gave Coyote Bill a full history of the boy Mr. Davenport had adopted in the mines; or rather, he intended to adopt him, but he didn’t do it. He had brought him up from a little boy to think his property was all his own, giving no heed to the half brother who might want some of it.
“And when I asked him for a little money—five hundred dollars were all I wanted—he got up on his ear and said I couldn’t have it. That made me mad, I tell you, and I left his house for good.”
“And never went into it again?” enquired Coyote Bill.
“Yes, I went into it once more,” said Henderson, thinking he might as well tell the truth, now that he was about it. “I went in and made an effort to steal the boy. I didn’t get caught at it, but my partner did, and I reckon he’s serving the penalty before this time.”
“What were you going to do with him?” asked Coyote Bill, and it was plain that he had a big respect for Henderson.
“I was going to put him in a lunatic asylum. I was going to keep him there until he became of age, and then get him to sign his money over to me. I tell you he would have done it before he had been there two weeks.”
“And he just as sane as you are?” said Bill. “Didn’t you know that the authorities would have turned—— By the way, how much is the old man worth?”
“He’s worth a million of dollars. I know that he would have turned the place upside down in the effort to find Bob, but I tell you I would have been willing to risk it.”
“A million dollars! And you want to get hold of some of that money?”