“Oh, no! The thing is too serious to laugh about.”
“White-eyed Moses is weakenin’ on the game himself. He come nigh gettin’ Cody’s lead yisterday.”
“It vent t’rough my hat!” the rascal confessed.
“And destroyed your nerve, eh?”
“So we want to change tactics for a little while; that is, we want to get them two people out of my cellar into a safer place. We thought of you. Knowing that really you are of our class, we come hyer; and I’m glad to find we wasn’t mistaken.”
The stranger smiled, apparently pleased by the compliment which allied him with all the thugs and toughs of Blossom Range.
“Show me my duty and I’ll do it,” he said; “that is, if there’s good money in it.”
“A thousand dollars a week,” said the saloon keeper; “and I’ll give you five hundred of it right now, if you’re willin’. Besides, you can, if your place back there is really secure enough to hold our prisoners, keep on beating the fools at my gaming tables, and go right ahead, too, with your hold-up work; though, in that last, there is so much danger that I’d like to have you drop it till this thing blows over. It will be safer for you, if you do.”
“At least vhile Buffalo Bill is here!” said White-eyed Moses.