In Gentleman Jim’s private room in the Alcazar the scout and the gambler were talking.
As a rule, the king of scouts had no more use for a gambler than he had for any other robber, but there was something about the quiet, polished Gentleman Jim, and his reputation for “squareness,” that attracted the scout. Then, too, Gentleman Jim was a good deal of a mystery, and there is always something attractive about a mystery.
Gentleman Jim had a “past,” but, up to that moment, he had never spoken to any one about it. The scout, it may be observed, was with the other at the gambler’s own request. Evidently, Jim had something on his mind of which he wished to relieve himself.
The two men had lighted cigars, and were smoking as they talked.
“It’s history now, Buffalo Bill,” the gambler was saying, “how Lawless sent to me a deed for the Forty Thieves Mine, executed in your name, with the understanding that the mine was to be yours if you went out to it and remained for three consecutive days and nights in its shaft and underground workings; it’s history, too, how you went there, fell into a trap Lawless had set for you, and were only saved from death by Wah-coo-tah; and it’s history how Lawless and his men escaped, and are now at large, still laying their traps to get the best of you—and me.”
“Laying their traps to get the best of you?” repeated the scout, puzzled. “I don’t understand it that way. What has Lawless got against you? Didn’t he send that deed to you, trusting you with it, and telling you to turn it over to me as soon as I had remained in the mine for the three days and nights?”
“That is why he has taken a grudge against me—for giving you the deed.”
“You only carried out his instructions.”
“I know that; but there is something you do not know, Buffalo Bill, and I have brought you here to tell you about it. You thought Lawless had been seriously, perhaps mortally, wounded, at the time you and your pards escaped from the mine?”
The scout nodded.