"That's funny," said Bennington to himself. "I wonder why Mizzou didn't bring it up with him last night?" Then he remembered the old man's watery eye and laughed. "I guess I know," he thought.
The next thing was to find the men named in the letter. He did not know them from Adam. Mizzou saw no difficulty, however, when the matter was laid before him.
"They're in th' Straight Flush!" he asserted positively.
This was astounding. How should Old Mizzou know that?
"I don't exactly know," the old man explained this discrepancy, "but they generally is!"
"Don't they ever work?"
"Work's purty slack," crawfished Davidson. "But I tells you I don't know. We has to find out," and he shuffled away toward the saloon.
Anybody but Bennington would have suspected something. There was the delayed letter, the supernatural knowledge of Old Mizzou, the absence of Fay. Even the Easterner might have been puzzled to account for the crowded condition of the Straight Flush at ten in the morning, if his attention had not been quite fully occupied in posing before himself as the man of business.
When Mizzou and his companion entered the room, the hum of talk died, and every one turned expectantly in the direction of the newcomers.
"Gents," said Old Mizzou, "this is Mr. de Laney, th' new sup'rintendent of th' Holy Smoke. Mr. de Laney, gents!"