“She was telling them to vatch your blace.” “So?” “That’s vhat I made of it. She is wanting rewenge on Juniper Joe and Benson for killing Ward.” “Git a woman worked up along the jealousy-and-revenge line,” said Gopher Gabe, “and you’ve got a devil to deal with. But _she_ don’t know anything.” “I am hobing not.” “I’m certain she don’t. She was with the show only a week, and all she saw was what went on in the wine rooms. What’s she goin’ to do?” “Vell, I don’t know that. She was gifing them tips.” “And will give ’em more if she can. But that needn’t scared you.” “I see you ton’dt understand. I was scared because I am so near being catched. I didn’t get oudt of the hall before that trapper vas in it. I t’ought he was going to shoot.” “Did he recognize ye? That’s important.” “I am hobing he didn’t, but I don’t know. He didn’t see my face, I am sure. I was going down the stairvay vhen he shouted to me to stop. He clicked his rewolver, but I didn’t stop.” “You didn’t hear anything to make you think they guess where Juniper and Benson air?” “Only vhat she said. She told them to vatch your joint. And there was some talk about putting some one in blace of one of your vaiters, so that he could act as a sby.” “Well, we can block that, now that we’re on. I don’t think they can find Benson and Joe.” “Are they going out to the Utes?” “No. They’ll be safer right where I’ve got ’em. I ain’t scared yet. Buffalo Bill has been watching this place straight along, but not saying anything about it; we know that. Let him watch. He’ll not catch me napping.” “Shepardt has been your friendt.” “He is yit. But of course he won’t stand for lawbreakin’ and jailbreakin’. So long’s he thinks I’m on the square, Shepard ain’t goin’ to make trouble; but----” A man who had come into the saloon, instead of stopping before the bar, had come on back, and now approached the small room where Gopher Gabe and his fiddling lieutenant were conferring. White-eyed Moses took a look through the crack of the door. “Gootness! It’s him, right now.” “Matt Shepard?” “Sure.” “Well, that’s all right. Jest you keep your face straight, and say that you hain’t been near the Eagle House. I’ll fix him.” Matt Shepard, square-jawed, big-framed, honest, and gritty, but a man of the type known as a “mixer,” came up to the door of the room, then pushed it open, and walked in, looking at the proprietor and at White-eyed Moses. “Hello, Mose!” he said, taking a seat quite as if he felt at home. “Where you been keepin’ yerself lately?” “Oh, all roundt. In the usual blaces,” was the fiddler’s answer. “Fiddlin’ business as good as ever, eh?” “Purdy goodt!” “You wasn’t over t’ the Eagle House a while ago? Think straight now!” “I vasn’t over dare.” “You’re goin’ to stick to that?” “Vhy shouldt I be over dare?” “It was said that you was spyin’ on Cody!” White-eyed Moses threw out his hands in vehement disclaimer.