He wanted his men to see that he was “doing all he could to get the emeralds for them.”
He began to question the girl, and got from her a repetition of the statement that she would show them where the emeralds were concealed, on their promise to let her and Bruce Clayton go free.
She believed that Buffalo Bill and old Nomad could take care of themselves; and as for Pawnee Bill, she thought he was hurrying out of the country, on his way to Glendive. Her desire to secure the freedom of Bruce Clayton made her selfish, perhaps, in some points. The emeralds were as nothing to her, when compared with his safety.
Black John had taken a sudden and violent liking for the girl.
“I’ll cut loose from the others,” he told himself, “and slide; and when I do I’ll take the emeralds, and I’d like to take her. I suppose she’d make a rumpus, and all that, but what do I care? I can manage her; if no other way, I can whale her, like the Injuns do their squaws. I reckon that would fetch her to her senses. With the money them emeralds will bring, I could hide out in Mexico somewheres, and live like a prince, and never do no more work, ner run any more risk.”
Black John had as little knowledge of the heart of a true and refined woman as if he were an Indian. Such women as he had known were of the lower, coarser sort, and he judged all women by them.
“We’ll look round a bit,” he said to his men, for he had lost none of his craftiness, “and we’ll see what’s become of Buffalo Bill and his pard. And I wonder where that old trapper went to? That was a clever thing he done, I’ll say! Also, it was reckless; fer if we hadn’t been afraid to shoot we could have downed him and his horse dead easy!”
He took a couple of men and began to scout about, hoping to discover what had become of Pawnee Bill and Cody; but he saw nothing.
“Beats my time!” he said. “They was right over there and follerin’ our trail, but soon’s we laid a trap fer ’em they dropped out of sight. Yit I know that neither them ner their horses kin fly. And I don’t see that old trapper nowhere. He’s a smart one, and no mistake. I reckon he and that old horse o’ his aire hidin’ in some holler, and keepin’ as close to the grass and bushes as if they was a pair of rabbits.”
He spent almost an hour in this scouting trip, and returned with his companions no wiser than when he went.