"Quite," they agreed.
"How long will it be before you finish your meetings?"
"Ten days. It takes a week's notice for a special meeting."
On the way to South Dakota again Lafond stared out of the windows with unseeing eyes in which lurked laughter. "Ten days," said he to himself, passing the fingers of one hand softly over the palm of the other. His dark bearded face in the twilight lost its outlines against the upholstery of the Pullman. A nervous little bride on her wedding trip to California grasped her husband's arm.
"What is it, dear?" inquired the latter.
"Foolishness," she laughed, a little forcedly. "But see that man's eyes. Aren't they uncanny?"
"Looks a bit like a maniac," admitted the groom, "but it's this queer light. Odd fellow. Looks as if he might have one of those interesting Western histories you read about."
"A fool for luck! A fool for luck!" Black Mike was repeating to himself. "Ten days! I can fix the date for that dance-hall opening now!"