Nick Undrell glanced at them and shook his head.
"Them's just toy smokes," he objected. "Gimme some sensible, strong pipe terbacco an' I'll thank you; but I got no use fer aristocratic playthings like them. What you got in th' bag?"
Kiddie afterwards had an important reason for remembering Nick Undrell's contempt for cigarettes. Slipping the gold case into his breast pocket, he now took up the canvas wallet and opened it to take out a substantial bundle of American bank notes.
"I've to pay you and your boys for the great help you gave me in guarding my outfit along the trail," he explained, speaking now in his character of Lord St. Olave. "I don't forget that you risked your lives and were in danger of losing them. I want to reward you all accordingly."
"No occasion ter hurry 'bout the payment," said Nick, assuming an air of indifference. "Next week'll be time enough." He glanced down at the bundle of greenbacks and gave a little gasp of envious surprise. "Say," he observed, "you got consid'rable confidence in folk's honesty to carry a heap o' dollars like that along o' you."
Kiddie met the man's cunningly covetous glance as he passed the whole bundle across to him.
"Guess that's considerably more'n you an' your gang of road-agents found on the harmless traveller you robbed on the trail last week and left gagged and bound," he said pointedly.
"Eh?"
Nick clutched the notes and drew back. His hand went to his hip.
Kiddie seemed to have anticipated this movement, and he was quite ready for it.