“No.”
“Well, the man called Buffalo Bill is in Phœnix. Buffalo Bill is an Indian-fighter. McGowan suspects that an organized gang of Apaches, in some manner, is looting the Three-ply of its bullion. He is going to ask Buffalo Bill to help him locate the red thieves, and capture them.”
“But this Buffalo Bill is employed by the government,” said Jacobs, his brown face growing pale. “He would not leave his government work to help McGowan on a job that manifestly belongs to the sheriff of the county.”
“You can’t tell, any more than I can, what Buffalo Bill will do!” said Bernritter sharply. “The governor is a friend of McGowan’s, and Buffalo Bill is a friend of the governor’s. If the governor asks Buffalo Bill to do this for McGowan, the chances are that Buffalo Bill will get on the job. If he does——”
Bernritter ground his teeth.
“What—if he does?” came from Jacobs.
“It’s all day with you and me, Jacobs,” finished Bernritter; “we should have to make a getaway at once, and get over into Sonora. I don’t want to leave here until we make our big clean-up. Then we can clear out with plenty of gold.”
Jacobs fell back in his chair and breathed hard.
“What about the Dutchman?” he asked.