“Vell, I like dot Frieda pedder as any girl vat I efer saw. Dot’s right.”
The scout laughed.
“Vat’s to be done now, Puffalo Pill?”
“We’ll have supper, and then we’ll ride out and camp in the vicinity of the Three-ply Mine. We can learn more by playing this game on the strict q. t. than by going about it openly.”
“I’ll bed you dot feller, Pernridder, und dot odder feller, Chacops, knows more as dey vants to——”
“Stow it, baron! You don’t want to throw any suspicions on men who are possibly innocent. Developments will prove who are guilty, and who are not. We’ll let events speak for themselves.”
In the hotel office the clerk halted Buffalo Bill and handed him a letter.
The letter was addressed in an unfamiliar hand, and the postmark showed it had passed through the Phœnix post-office at 4 P. M. It was then only half-past 5. The enclosed sheet bore the following:
“Buffalo Bill: If you know when you’re well off, you’ll leave this bullion business at the Three-ply strictly alone. Attend to your own affairs. This is the sheriff’s business, anyway. A word to the wise is sufficient. Talk is cheap, and writing is fully as cheap as talk, but don’t pass up this warning if you value your scalp.
“One of the Thieves.”