“We’re tryin’ ter figger it out, Buffalo Bill,” wheezed Spangler. “Jest take a look at this an’ tell me what it means—if ye kin.”
Spangler, Pete, and Tenny moved away from the door. Pinned to the wood by a crude dagger was a ragged square of birch bark. On the bark, where the words had evidently been traced with the dagger’s point, was this, in printed characters:
Nuzhee Mona.
Just that, and nothing more. Nomad and Little Cayuse stared, then turned away. Buffalo Bill and Wild Bill laughed, and the former tore away the piece of bark and cast it from him with a gesture of contempt; then, jerking the dagger from the wood, he carried it on into the hotel. Hickok followed, a jesting remark on his lips. Dell trailed after Hickok, but it was plain she could not dismiss the matter in the same offhand way that he had done.
CHAPTER XII.
THE “FORTY THIEVES MINE.”
“Got any idee why that thing was skewered inter my door, Buffalo Bill?” asked Spangler, waddling into the room of the hotel, which served as an “office.”
“Don’t fret about that, Spangler,” said the scout; “it was meant for me.”
“Queer kind of a visitin’-card,” said Tenny, sticking his head in at the door. “‘Nuzhee Mona,’ hey? Queer name fer a man, too.”
“How did it come there?” queried the scout.
“That’s what we don’t know,” puffed Spangler. “Half an hour ago it wasn’t there—I kin take my affidavy on that. I had my eyes on the door jest after the Chinks had come with the meat, an’ it was as bare as the pa’m o’ my hand. Right arter that I settled down in front an’ went ter sleep. Tenny an’ Pete woke me up an’ pointed out the thing ter me.”