“I see that he did hear,” said the scout; “and apparently you heard, also.”
“Those gold pieces are the treasure of an old Indian medicine man, and with them he pretends to work his charms; they are sacred to that medicine man, and to all his tribe. That tribe is a branch of the Cheyennes now held on the reservation near here; and if trouble comes these Cheyennes here can be counted on to help those in the mountains.”
“Very true,” Buffalo Bill admitted softly.
“I’m telling you this,” said Wilkins, “to show you that I know what I am talking about.”
“The proof seems good,” the scout admitted, “so far as it goes.”
Young Wilkins continued to walk about the room nervously, in spite of the scout’s invitation to him to sit down.
“Barlow,” he went on, “intended to get permission to lead a small force over into the Moonlight Mountains. There was a disturbance to be made there, to give him an excuse, and he felt sure he could get the colonel to send him. Well, when he got there he meant to scheme in some way to get those Cheyennes involved and slaughtered, and he expected to get hold of that store of gold belonging to the old medicine man.”
The scout’s interest had quickened.
“Perhaps you know Smallpox Dave?” said Wilkins.
“I have heard of him,” was the answer.