“Buffalo Bill found it out. Bascomb put the scout and his Dutch pard into an abandoned shaft, last night, and they found a pile of amalgam in it.”
“Bascomb made a fool of himself!” muttered Jacobs. “He knew the amalgam was there, but I guess he thought we had hidden it.”
“Who put the wires in the battery-boxes?”
“Bernritter did that—while you and he were watching the mill for thieves.” Jacobs laughed cynically. “Oh, Bern’s a rum one, I’m telling you. He never intended to marry your daughter, Mr. McGowan. He’s a married man already—he told me so. All he wanted to do was to get himself solid with you so he could make a big clean-up and get away.”
McGowan clenched his hands fiercely and a blaze of savage anger crossed his face.
“I’d like to see the scoundrel hung!” he muttered. “What’s more, I’d like to spring the trap myself, or pull at the rope that lynches him. He’s not fit to live!”
“Who’s this man Bascomb, Jacobs?” asked the scout.
“I don’t know much about Bascomb,” replied Jacobs, “except that he and Bern are pals. Bascomb has a hold on a bunch of renegade Apaches, and he rounded them up to put through this deal here to-day. I won’t be sure, but I think that Bascomb suggested all this gold-robbery business to Bernritter, and has been telling him how to pull it off.”
“Bernritter was a willing tool—there’s not a particle of doubt about that,” interjected McGowan.
“Does Bascomb stay in Phœnix?” asked the scout.