“Just this,” responded Billy sweetly, “Frank and Harry Chester are good friends of mine. I haven’t known them very long, but Frank saved my life the other night.”
“Another grudge I owe him,” intercepted Rogero.
“Quite likely,” went on the unruffled Billy, “but I’d like to do something for them. Now, if I give you this picture will you agree to take a fourth share with the Chester boys and myself in certain mines that you know of—you see I am on to a good many of your secrets.”
“What mines?” demanded Rogero evasively, “I know of no mines.”
“Well, they haven’t been worked very much recently, and that’s a fact,” rejoined Billy; “but I rather think that you have a bit of parchment in your possession which contains the clue to them, and if they are as rich as the legend has it, then you should be quite willing to take a fourth share, particularly as you are getting back a picture and saving yourself a trip to the States that might have an unpleasant termination.”
Rogero sat silent, as if in deep thought, for a few minutes and then, suddenly throwing off his disagreeable manner, he said quite amiably:
“There is a good deal of reason in what you say.”
“Ah,” cried the delighted Billy, “I thought that you’d see the good sense of it.”
The general gave a peculiar smile. It was almost dark in the tent, but Billy could see his companion’s teeth gleam in their setting of black beard and mustache.
“If you will excuse me while I order some lights we will talk more of this,” he said slowly, like a man who has come to a sudden decision.