“Here I will become once more strong,” he murmured. “No place in ze world like ze dear old Tehachapi mountains.”
“Wal, I see you’ve begun to let your beard grow again,” continued Buck, pointing to the gray stubbled chin. “And when your hair comes along, too, you’ll just be lookin’ fine and dandy. The same old Pierre that used to sit for hours at a time in the store.”
He paused a moment, surveying the visitor.
“A leetle more whisky, please,” murmured Pierre, as he watched the sheriff lay down his glass.
“All the whisky you want, old fellow,” exclaimed Buck, with effusive hospitality. “By gunnies, you’re entitled to a good few nips after all the long years you’ve been locked up. Ain’t that so, boys?”
“I should say,” declared Tom, fervently, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
The Frenchman drank gratefully, and as he felt the warm alcoholic glow in his vitals, uttered a deep-drawn “Ah!” of appreciation.
“Tastes good, don’t it?” observed Buck. “You never turned down a drink of good whisky in the old days, did you, Pierre? Great times then! And gosh almighty, don’t it beat hell, I never suspected who you were all those years you used to sit around the store smokin’ that big-bowled pipe of yourn? And you knew about the cave then?”
“Oh, Pierre Luzon, he know how to keep one secret,” responded the Frenchman, smiling.
“Yes, and good for us all you kept it, old man,” exclaimed the sheriff. “He’s a-goin’ to show us the cave tomorrow, Buck. There will be six in the divvy-up now, boys, for of course Pierre Luzon stands in. That’s agreeable all round, fellers?”