"Waal, so long, Pecos," said Siwash, moving toward the door. "The ole man may be in a hurry, so I'll tear away."
He disappeared, and Pecos continued to munch his bread and crackers. A few minutes later, through the open door, Matt and Pecos saw Siwash pounding away across the prairie.
Immediately Pecos Jones' manner underwent a change. Stuffing what remained of his crackers and dried beef into his jacket pockets, he ran to the door and watched.
"He's gone," murmured Pecos, "an' I got an hour, anyway. Sixty cases, eh?" he snarled. "What I done's wuth more, an' if Murg won't give it I take it, anyhow."
Without paying the least attention to Matt, who was watching proceedings in amazement, Pecos ran to the wall and dropped down on his knees. Removing the big, flat stone, he threw it to one side and pushed his hand into the secret cache. Presently he drew out the leather pouch and gave a croaking laugh as he shook it over his head and listened to the jingle of gold.
"I'll l'arn 'em ter beat me out o' what's my due!" he cried. "I'll git on my hoss an' dodge away inter the hills. If Siwash kin find me, then he's welcome ter take his money back. Wonder if there's anythin' else in there?"
Again Pecos bent down, thrust his arm into the hole, and drew out a suitcase, mouldy and stained. Pecos weighed it in his hands, shook it, then cast it from him.
"Nothin' there!" he grumbled, and got to his feet.
A thrill shot through Matt. Pecos had seen Siwash counting his money and putting it away in the secret cache. Being a man of no principle, and believing that he had been poorly paid, he had made up his mind to steal all he could get his hands on and leave while Siwash was away at Jessup's.
While he was handling the suitcase Matt had seen, on one end of the mouldy piece of luggage, the letters, "G. F."