“It's agin nature. Blamed if it ain't fishy,” and Mr. Tucker shook his head dubiously. “It may be true; mind, I'm not disputing your word; but I don't believe it. No sir, it's agin nature,” reiterated Mr. Tucker. “I reckon you didn't pick out much now, did you?” he added shrewdly.
“No,” said Rogers regretfully, “I didn't. I ain't fit any more; I got an Indian arrow through my right lung,” here a violent fit of coughing interrupted him.
“No, you ain't fit any more,” agreeed Mr. Tucker commiseratingly.
“I been looking to get even with the game,” said Rogers, with a flash of hope in his deep eyes. “But I reckon this news near about knocks me. I was empty-handed when I left here twenty years ago, thinking to better myself, but I've come back just as poor as I went. I've played it in the hardest kind of luck right along, friends. I fought Indians and Mexicans in Texas, and helped drive them out of the country, but some one else always got the pick of the land. I herded sheep and cattle, only to have them run off; and, last of all, the Indians cleaned me out, and killed my wife. Then I moved over onto the Coast, hoping for a white man's chance; and when I found the gold I thought my fortune was made,” harsh, unhappy laughter issued from his lips. He swept a hand across his eyes, emotion seemed to choke him. “I been like a boy thinking how I'd spend that fortune. I been staying awake nights figuring what I'd buy with it; but I reckon I'll have chilly fingers before it burns a hole in my pockets. I wanted to bring my boy home, and then I was going to go back overland. It's a damnation trip across the plains.”
“Indians?” asked Mr. Tucker, his mouth agape.
“Indians, and no water, and no grub, and no guides, and no nothing. It's a hell of a trip, and it's a hell of a country.”
“I can't see how this news hurts your chances in the least,” said Stephen Landray kindly, he had not spoken until now. “To be candid with you, I think it rather benefits you than otherwise.”
“Why, of course,” said Bushrod. “It will all tend to create an interest in such ventures as the one you have to propose.”
Rogers looked first from the one to the other. “If I could think that, I'd sleep easy to-night,” but he shook his head sadly. “The bloom's off; it ain't a secret any longer.”
“Yes, but don't you see this news is all in proof of what you would want to make people believe?” urged Stephen. “Not that any proof would be necessary, perhaps.”