“Can’t we get at ’em there, some way?”
“I’ve been thinking of that. How would it work to try ‘Bloody Ike’?”
“He’d do it if there was a hundred plunkerino in it.”
“He can have it, and fifty dollars extra for every one of Cody’s men he gets.”
“There he is in the Red Tiger now.”
“Say, Rus, when you go in send Ike out here to me.”
“All right; so long.”
The Indian agent moved a few feet to one side and sat down on a box. Hickok was disappointed. He feared he could not hear the conversation between the agent and Bloody Ike. But his present position was the best he could do. He would wait.
Just then something happened that caused him for the moment to forget the man on the box and look to his own safety. He heard a step on the platform outside, a key inserted in the lock, and some one began fumbling with it. The Laramie man bounded behind some barrels, and crouched there.
The intruder, who was trying to unlock a door that was not locked, finally entered, struck a match, and glanced down the corridor and up the stairs, and then went out, securely locking the door after him and trying it several times after he had locked it.