“Sufferin’ twisters! Why, Benner hired Red Steve in the fust place bekase he was a desperado, an’ willin’ ter do any leetle job a honest cowpuncher might shy around. Now thet Red Steve’s done jest what Benner mout hev knowed he’d do, Benner gits what looks like an attack o’ narves. I kain’t b’leeve in et, not complete.”
“I never thought Benner was so desperate as some folks tried to make out,” Buffalo Bill answered. “He has his good points, Nick.”
“Up ter now,” said Nomad dryly, “he’s been purty successful keepin’ his good p’ints buried out o’ sight. But I’m s’prised at one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Why, Bloom an’ Benner ain’t the team I thort they was. They ain’t pullin’ tergether like they was well matched.”
“It looks as though we’d been a little wide of our trail, old pard,” said the scout. “We’ve been thinking, all along, that Bloom, by his ugly actions, was trying to keep on the right side of Lige Benner. I think, come to sift the reasons close to bed rock, that Bloom is in the game against Perry and Dunbar just because he hates the Star-A ranchers. He’s taken a dislike to them—to Nate in particular—and that’s why he acts as he does.”
“Mebbyso. He’s ’er whelp. He’d do a heap ter land on Nate somehow. I’m bettin’——”
A pounding of hoofs out in front, suddenly brought to a stop, a concerted rush of the men around the hotel toward the hitching pole, and a wild voice suddenly lifted, caused the old trapper to break off his remarks. The voice, husky with excitement, floated into the office through the open front door.
“Where’s a doctor? I want a doctor on the jump!”
Buffalo Bill and old Nomad, at this startling summons, left their chairs and went to the door.