“I don’t know, except through curiosity, and because there are so few women in the town. I was still outside when she came down, and she was talking with one of them at the foot of the stairs just before she came away. I took a look at the girl--a thing with a head of hair like a Circassian Beauty; on asking one of the assistants who she was, I was informed that her name is Vera Bright.” “Waugh!” Nomad gulped, smothering a snicker. “Thar’s a name fer ye!” “I don’t suppose it meant anything at all,” remarked the scout, as if musing over it. “Prob’ly not. Them show gals is frum ther East, I reckon, and likely thet accounted fer Mrs. Joe payin’ ’em a visit.” They came back to the subject uppermost in their minds--the question of who could have leaked information to the road agents. When they had threshed through it again, and made nothing of it, Buffalo Bill prepared to go down to the Wells Fargo office. “Do yer reckon,” said Nomad, as he and the baron arose to accompany the scout, “that this hyar Jackson Dane, what calls hisself a Frisco detective, could be mixed inter ther thing? Recklect thet Juniper Joe says he is shore Tim Benson.” “I’m not forgetting what Juniper Joe said about him.” “But what does yer think?” the trapper persisted. “There I am stalled again. It seems that we are called on to suspect everybody: the express agent, the post office people, the stage hands, and driver, Juniper Joe, and this alleged detective. Perhaps we’ll even add to the list as we go along.” “Mebby we’ll ring in the Casino ladies,” suggested the trapper with a grin. “It wouldn’t surprise me if we did.” “Waugh!” “Vale, dot vouldt furnish some excidemendt!” protested the German. “I should think, Schnitz, thet ye’d had ernough fer one day!” Nomad growled. “I am a hawg for excidemendt,” the baron admitted. Down at the Wells Fargo office they found Juniper Joe, with a number of other men, most of them shippers of the treasure taken by the road agents. They had been filing claims for repayment by the company. “I cain’t afford to lose that ten thousand dollars, y’ know,” the scout heard Juniper Joe remarking, as he entered the door. “It’s a lot o’ money; I paid the company fer safe transportation, and I expects it to make good.” Some of the other claimants said much the same thing. The office was crowded, for, in addition to these men, a lot of loafers were hanging round, their ears open for news and gossip. Having entered, Buffalo Bill and his pards stood by the door, almost at first unnoticed, listening to the talk, trying to get a “line” on something. The agent seemed flustered and nervous; apparently, he did not know what the powers who were over him would think of his action in sending the treasure across the mountain with the prospectors. He even admitted that he expected a “call down,” as he had exceeded his authority in doing it.