Dell Dauntless pushed forward and explained the situation to the scout and his pards.
“Waugh!” tuned up old Nomad in customary fashion, “what sort of er pizen deal is Lawless tryin’ ter pull off? Me no like um; hey, Wild Bill?”
“It’s sure a queer layout,” pondered Hickok. “The fact that Lawless is behind it makes it a cinch that it doesn’t mean any good to We, Us & Co. Whatever you do, Cody, remember that.”
“Where can we see you in half an hour, Gentleman Jim?” the scout inquired, turning to the gambler.
“In my private room at the Alcazar,” answered the gambler.
“We’ll be there,” said the scout. “That’s your steer, Dell,” he added. “You’d better turn the carcass over to Tenny for the use of Spangler, at the Lucky Strike. We haven’t had any fresh meat there for a couple of days, and I think we’d all appreciate it.”
“Pete an’ me’ll take keer o’ the brute, Buffalo Bill,” said Tenny. “Tell Spangler to send his Chinks over here and get the beef.”
Dell accompanied her pards to the hotel, and waited while they put up their horses. Meantime, Spangler, delighted with the prospect of securing a supply of fresh beef, had despatched his Chinamen to the place where Tenny and Pete were making the carcass ready. Henry Blake, worn out by his rough experience, went to the general bunk-room and turned in.
Half an hour after the scout and his pards had got back to the camp they were all in Gentleman Jim’s private room at the Alcazar. Dell formed one of the party.
The gambler closed the door securely, so that no one not interested could hear anything that went on in the room. To say that all were curious would state their feelings mildly.