“Right-o!” Wild Bill agreed. “Here is where the Utes got the courage which enabled them to charge and wipe out the sheriff’s party.”
“A man what will give whisky to pizen reds ought to be hung,” Bill Betts added. “But what air we goin’ ter do with the stuff, if we don’t take it to town?”
Buffalo Bill had been considering the possibilities of the discovery. Now he spoke:
“Everything indicates that Benson cached a lot of whisky here, which he has used from time to time in influencing the Utes; and that this last Ute outbreak was caused by it. If so, it occurs to me that he will come back here soon for more of it. Now that he has started in, he will have to keep the Utes drunk in order to control them; otherwise, they might sober up, get scared over what they have done, and be ready to make peace and surrender him. He has got to block that; and to do it he must get more whisky. He will come for it here.”
“Right ye air, Buffler!” said Nomad. “Which means ’et we kin lay fer him right hyer, and rake him in when he does come.”
“Jest so,” said Bill Betts. “And if Gorilla Jake comes with him, why, I kin rake him in. Me and Brother Jim is after that reward.”
The bottles lay on the ground, an imposing array.
“Enough to stock up a barroom,” said Betts, eying them covetously. “Thar ain’t any reason, gents, why we can’t jest shift this cache; and, then, when we go to the town, take the stuff with us and sell it thar. Whisky will sell in a town like Blossom Range, when nothin’ else would, and it allus brings good prices. We c’d divvy on the stakes.”
Buffalo Bill was mentally shaping up another plan.