The fellow’s actions were ingenuous. He talked and acted like an Easterner, but he looked like a Westerner, for all that.
“You understand, Mr. Smith,” pursued the scout, with the glint in his eyes that had taken the nerve of many a wily schemer, “that Wild Bill is my friend, and that I am anxious about him. If he has met with foul play, as you just suggested, I shall have something to say to the scoundrels back of it—later. Just now, though, I want all the information I can get. You will pardon me if I ask you what this Clancy had to say to you.”
Smith stiffened.
“What Clancy had to say, Buffalo Bill,” he replied, “is, of course, my own business. Nevertheless, under the circumstances, I recognize your right to press inquiries. If you will step aside with me, I will explain.”
Buffalo Bill walked apart with Smith.
“In order to figure this matter down to where you will have a thorough understanding of it, Buffalo Bill,” went on Smith, in a tone that seemed perfectly frank and open, “I shall have to tell you my business in this camp—and that business is one I was told to keep dark. I have come here from Chicago to examine a mine with the view of purchasing it. Clancy came to me from the owner of the mine, who is shortly expected in this camp. What Clancy told me was that the owner would be here to-morrow or next day, and Clancy advised me not to tell any one why I was here. That is all. It is news to me if Clancy does not bear a good reputation. But I don’t suppose that affects the mine, anyway. I shall not purchase the property until I take my ore-samples and have them assayed. Then——”
“What is the name of the mine?” broke in the scout.
“It is called the Forty Thieves.”
“Queer name for an honest mine,” said the scout.
“That’s right; but they have queer names for mines—some of them almost laughable. For instance, I have heard of the Pauper’s Dream, the P. D. Q., the——”