“I’ll tell you all about it when I have more time. Just now I want you to help me. Stay right here, and soon I’ll come to you. How long will it take to get to your horse?”
“’Bout three jumps and a half,” said Smallpox Dave, with a laugh. “It’s clost ter hand.”
“Have your horse ready, so that you can help me with that. And here—remember that I pay well. We may have to get out of here to-night, if we want to get hold of the rest of those nuggets.”
He slipped a coin into the rascal’s hand, and then running to the corner of the wall, he found a place where he could mount it, and soon was on top of the palisades. Then he dropped, or climbed, down on the inside, and was lost to the view of Smallpox Dave.
“Somethin’s up, more’n he was willin’ ter tell me!” thought the desperado, as he felt of the coin and dropped it into his pocket. “So he’s goin’ to make a strike to git that Injun gold? Well, I’ll go with him in that, you bet; but when we git the gold if I don’t cut his throat and skip out o’ ther country with his half as well as mine then my name ain’t Smallpox Dave. Which it ain’t!” he added whimsically.
CHAPTER XXIII.
DRIVEN BY DESPERATION.
Buffalo Bill did not remain long in his room after hearing that remarkable confession from young Wilkins. When he left it, he sought that of Corporal Clendenning.
With the commandant and also the captain absent, Joel Barlow, in his position of lieutenant, was the ranking officer at Fort Cimarron. Buffalo Bill thought of this as he went in search of the corporal.
As if to balk him, or cause him hesitation, Clendenning was not in.
“Shall I look for him, or shall I take the sole responsibility of this move?” was the scout’s question, when he found that Clendenning was not to be found readily.