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Updated: June 6, 2025
Guess they'll be yearning for a big game." "When'll you git back?" "Noon, day after to-morrow, maybe." Bill had turned away, and was abstractedly contemplating the strangers. Suddenly he turned again, and his steely eyes fixed themselves on the troubled Minky. "Say, things is gettin' on your nerves. It ain't yet. Those folks is only lookin' fer pointers." "An' findin' 'em?" "Mebbe.
"It sure must," agreed Minky. And he passed into the store. It was dark when Scipio urged the old mule up the bank at the fork of the creek. He was very weary, and Jessie was asleep beside him, with her head pillowed upon his shoulder. His arm was about her, supporting her, and he sat rigid, lest the bumping of the rattling vehicle should waken her.
For though their belief in Bill and Minky had received a jolt, long months of experience had sown in them an appreciation that took a power of uprooting. The Monday and Tuesday passed without development of any sort.
"Say, I'll allow the gold racket's mighty int'restin', but it makes me tired this weather. You was speakin' 'draw' " "Sure," responded Bill amiably. "We're four here, if you fancy a hand. Minky?" The storekeeper nodded, and promptly produced cards and 'chips. And in five minutes the game was in progress.
Sooner or later every cent of money he had paid out in the purchase of gold would find its way back to him, and go to help swell the fortune which was the effort of his life. These men had not the commercial instinct of Minky. And, furthermore, his meeting at night with the gambler, and its resulting compact, was still a secret.
Wild Bill was at the poker table with Minky, Sandy Joyce and Toby Jenks when Scipio entered the place. He was a gambler out and out. It was his profession.
"I was kind of wonderin'," Minky went on thoughtfully, "if he don't turn up wot's to happen with them kids?" "I ain't figgered." Bill's interest was apparently wandering. "He'll need to be gettin' around or somethin's got to be done," Minky drifted on vaguely. "Sure." "Y'see, Sunny's jest a hoboe." "Sure."
"What do you do with yourself all day, Minky?" "Nothing much. Read work play tennis with Mr. Sutcliffe." "Mr. Sutcliffe?" "Never mind Mr. Sutcliffe. Mark doesn't want to hear about him." "Is there a Mrs. Sutcliffe?" "Yes." "Does she play?" "No. She's too old. Much older than he is." "That'll do, Mary." Mamma's eyes blinked. Her forehead was pinched with vexation. Her foot tapped on the floor.
A moment later a distinct movement amongst the watchers, which had something almost of relief in it, told that this had happened. Minky turned to Jim Wright, who chanced to be nearest him. "It's Sid," he declared definitely. The old man nodded. "An' I guess Van's right," he agreed. "He'll be along up in a minute," said Joe Brand.
Scipio shook his head, and his lips tightened. "No. I want to borrow a good horse from Bill here." The gambler set down the cards he had been shuffling. The statement seemed to warrant his action. He sat back in his chair and bit a chew of tobacco off a black plug. Minky and the others sat round and stared at the little man with unfeigned interest.
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