“But I intend to offer them for the release of my dear Bruce,” she objected. “It wouldn’t be right to the memory of your uncle,” said the scout. “He gave you those emeralds for a certain purpose.” “Yes, to make my life happy; but it can never be happy if Bruce should be killed, especially if I had the feeling that I was to blame because I held back the emeralds.” Nevertheless, Buffalo Bill, Pawnee Bill, and Nomad talked her out of the notion of attempting to make this sacrifice of the gems. “You are wiser than I,” she said, in submitting. “Do with them as you like.” Accordingly, they concealed the emeralds in the buckskin bag at the foot of a small tree, whose location it would be easy to remember. Then they went on with the girl, following in the road agents’ trail, and discussing the question of whether Pawnee Bill had not better ride to Glendive for assistance. Hardly were they out of sight of the tree where they had buried the gems when Black John, the leader of the mustang catchers, came out of some bushes not far off, and advanced into the open, leading his horse. “Now, what in thunder did they bury there?” he was saying. “I’ll jes’ take a look, and see!” He found the place where the emeralds had been hid, and unearthed them. “Great Rocky Mountains!” he gasped, when he opened the buckskin bag and saw the priceless emeralds that lay in it. “But all the fiends’ luck, if this ain’t a funny deal! Here we planned to rob the stage and git the emeralds that Toby Sam tole us about. He said that the young feller was to carry ’em, for safety. I was late gittin’ here; and before I could do more’n hide they had gone for the stage, and was kitin’ out south with the young feller a prisoner. And now here comes along Buffalo Bill and his crowd, with the young lady, and before goin’ furder they buries the jewels here, fer me! Waugh! I’ve heard of mericles, and this is one of ’em!” He held up the gems and let them slide through his greedy fingers. “Luck--luck, such luck!” he muttered. “I’m wadin’ in luck, I’m swimmin’ in it. I’m jes’ natcherly wallerin’ in luck! Hoop-la! Emeralds fer a king! And now they’re right here in my fist.” Craft and greediness came to him. “Nobody’s seen me; the boys has gone on with Stockton; and here I’ve got the emeralds. Nobody’s seen me!” He looked all around, and saw not a person anywhere. “By the great tarantulas, why should I divide ’em with the other fellers? Why should I? We expected to git holt of ’em, and divide ’em up, and it would have been a handsome haul fer each of us, even then. Toby Sam put us onto it because he was too durn cowardly to try to make the riffle himself. But now--now they’re mine! Why shouldn’t I hold ’em, and say nothin’? But durn ef I don’t, too!” He stowed the buckskin bag of emeralds somewhere in an inner pocket of his coat. Then he mounted his horse and rode slowly in the direction taken by the road agents, and by the men and the girl who had pursued them.