Part 13 (1/2)
”I chipped in because I saw you were a white man, and you were hard pressed by a villainous crew who must be bandits. I believe in white men standing by white men.”
”Say, thet's a great motter, young man. 'White men stand by white men.'
As fer me, I don't like a Greaser none whatever.”
As he said this, Bushnell gave Pedro another searching look, and the guide scowled at the ground in a sullen way.
”Now,” continued the Westerner, ”w'at I wants ter know next is w'at yer knows about Jack Burk. We had a place all agreed on ter meet w'en I returned, but he wusn't thar, an' I hed ter go it alone. That's why I'm yere alone.”
”It was not Burk's fault that he did not meet you.”
”Say you so? Then lay a straight trail fer me ter foller.”
”He was sick.”
”Is that whatever? Wa'al, derned ef I could seem ter cut his trail anywhar I went, an' I made a great hustle fer it.”
”He was in the hut where you saw us.”
”Wa'al, dern my skin! Ef I'd knowed thet, I'd made a straight run fer thet yere ranch, bet yer boots!”
”He came to the door, and shouted to you.”
”You don't tell me thet! An' I didn't hear him! Wa'al, wa'al! Whar wuz my ears? Whar is he now?”
”Dead.”
Bushnell reeled.
”Is he that?” he gasped, recovering. ”An' I didn't get to see him! Say, this clean upsets me, sure as shootin'!”
The man seemed greatly affected.
”Poor old Jack!” he muttered. ”We've made many a tramp together, an' we struck it rich at last, but he'll never git ther good of thet thar strike.”
Then he seemed to remember that he was watched by several eyes, and he straightened up, pa.s.sing his hand over his face.
”Jack shall hev a big monumint,” he cried. ”Tell me whar my old pard is planted.”
”That is something I do not know, Mr. Bushnell.”
The man was astonished.
”Don't know? Why, how's thet?”
Frank told the entire story of Burk's death and mysterious disappearance, to which Bushnell listened, with breathless interest.
When it was finished, the man cried:
”Thet thar beats me! I don't understand it, none whatever.”