“Yes, it is a fact, although I’m troubled to know where you got your information.”
“We troubled some ter git et, Mr. Bingham,” put in Nomad, with a wink at Wild Bill.
“Exactly,” said Wild Bill, “and I hope I’ll never be troubled so much in the same way again. I don’t believe I could stand it.”
“As I understand, Mr. Bingham,” proceeded the scout, “if the rock you took from the Forty Thieves assayed properly, you were to pay Lawless a hundred thousand for the mine?”
“I and some friends were going to form a syndicate and buy the mine, if it proved as represented,” said Mr. Bingham.
“Ther comp’ny you an’ yer friends hev formed,” announced Nomad gravely, “ain’t a marker ter ther skindicate thet was formed at this end o’ ther line.”
“I—I am at a loss to understand you, gentlemen,” said Mr. Bingham, wrinkling his brows.
“Lawless and some friends of his,” explained Buffalo Bill, “have salted the mine.”
“Salted the mine? Really, what does that mean? I never heard of such a thing.”
Nomad sank back in his chair with a groan.