“I reckon I know now, pard,” was the amiable answer. “You’re the wise critter sitting in the dark and pullin’ the strings, rakin’ in most of the money, too, while others do the dangerous work. But it’s all right. I ain’t no call to kick. Just ante up the cash to me at the end of each week, and I’ll hold that couple back there till their heads are gray. I can’t make a thousand dollars a week easier, as I see it.”
“Andt it is safe—for you,” urged White-eyed Moses.
“I’m goin’ to make it safe, pards.”
“We’d better be movin’, then,” said the saloon keeper, “if the thing is all understood. Daylight will come jumpin’ along by and by.”
“Right you are. I’m ready.”
Uncle Sam locked the door of his cabin when they went out of it.
Then they took their way together downtown, but kept to the dark streets.
Entering Gopher Gabe’s establishment by the back way, they came again into the gaming room; when the man of the blond hair was surprised to find two men in it—Tim Benson and Juniper Joe.
They looked a bit startled, but Gopher Gabe reassured them.