“Orders from Fort Apache make it necessary for me to do my best to capture Bascomb; but, before I had received the orders, I had already promised McGowan my aid.”
“What’s the first thing to be done?” queried McGowan anxiously.
A Chinaman stepped out of the door of the chuck-shanty just then, and began pounding a gong. A long whistle came from the mill, and instantly the roar of the stamps ceased. Night-shift miners and day-shift mill men came running from bunk-house and mill.
“The first thing,” laughed the scout, “is to eat a good dinner.”
“I can’t eat,” said McGowan. “Isn’t there something we can do, at once?”
“I’m formulating a plan,” the scout answered; “but the time we spend on our dinner will not be lost, nor affect one iota our chances for effecting the rescue of your daughter. If you’re in on this deal, Miss Dauntless,” he added to the girl, “you had better put out that white pinto while we’re in the chuck-shanty. Do the same with your horse, Nick,” he finished.
The horses were taken to the corral, and McGowan, Buffalo Bill, Nomad, and Dell Dauntless went to the mine-owner’s table in the dining-room. Golightly joined the miners and mill men at their own table.
It was a silent meal that was eaten at McGowan’s table. The mine-owner, his mind on his daughter, ate little; the scout and the girl were thoughtful, and Nomad, furtively watching his pard’s face, held his peace to let his pard’s mind finish its planning.
“Well?” queried McGowan impatiently, when they had reassembled in front of the office, “what is your plan, Buffalo Bill?”
“Write out your agreement to drop proceedings against Bascomb and Bernritter, McGowan,” returned the scout, “and have ready your five-pound bar of bullion.”