“That’s sure the best way to bust that beautiful dream o’ hisn,” commented Blimby.
“You may expect to see Jimmy very soon,” said Tom. Then suddenly recalling his experience of the early morning he related the particulars to the ranchman.
The Rambler was quite disappointed. Instead of creating a sensation, as he had half expected, not the slightest change of expression came over Colonel Sylvester’s face, though he listened with attention jotting down several notes on a piece of paper.
“Think you could find the location of this place Tom speaks about?” he asked, turning to Blimby.
“Certain sure, Colonel,” responded the cowboy. “’Tain’t so very far from where the old Mexican hangs out in an old tumble-down shack. By thunder! son, mebbe you’ve struck somethin’ worth followin’ up.” Blimby suddenly lowered his voice; then, looking up and down as if he feared his words might be overheard, he added, “I don’t know as how I ought to say it, Colonel, but—but——”
“Go ahead, Blimby,” said the ranchman, encouragingly.
“I’ve had me s’picions about that there old chap. Ye see it weren’t so very long after the rustlers got to work ag’in that he bobs up, smilin’. This young chap asks me about him—I didn’t say nothin’ much; but now—hang it all, after this tale o’ hisn, ain’t I got a right to?”
Tom Clifton, whose eyes had brightened tremendously, was on the point of blurting out that he too had thought of exactly the same thing, when by a strong effort he repressed the temptation and instead remained silent while Colonel Sylvester spoke up. “We mustn’t jump at hasty conclusions, Blimby,” he said. “It might be wiser not to express such thoughts.”
“Mebbe,” admitted the cowboy, twirling his sombrero. “But it strikes me the old Mexican’s too perlite an’ smilin’ to be all right.”
“Now, Tom,” exclaimed the ranchman, “kindly step this way.” The Rambler followed him inside the house, and a few moments later they entered the handsomely furnished library.