“I’ll cut loose from the others,” he told himself, “and slide; and when I do I’ll take the emeralds, and I’d like to take her. I suppose she’d make a rumpus, and all that, but what do I care? I can manage her; if no other way, I can whale her, like the Injuns do their squaws. I reckon that would fetch her to her senses. With the money them emeralds will bring, I could hide out in Mexico somewheres, and live like a prince, and never do no more work, ner run any more risk.” Black John had as little knowledge of the heart of a true and refined woman as if he were an Indian. Such women as he had known were of the lower, coarser sort, and he judged all women by them. “We’ll look round a bit,” he said to his men, for he had lost none of his craftiness, “and we’ll see what’s become of Buffalo Bill and his pard. And I wonder where that old trapper went to? That was a clever thing he done, I’ll say! Also, it was reckless; fer if we hadn’t been afraid to shoot we could have downed him and his horse dead easy!” He took a couple of men and began to scout about, hoping to discover what had become of Pawnee Bill and Cody; but he saw nothing. “Beats my time!” he said. “They was right over there and follerin’ our trail, but soon’s we laid a trap fer ’em they dropped out of sight. Yit I know that neither them ner their horses kin fly. And I don’t see that old trapper nowhere. He’s a smart one, and no mistake. I reckon he and that old horse o’ his aire hidin’ in some holler, and keepin’ as close to the grass and bushes as if they was a pair of rabbits.” He spent almost an hour in this scouting trip, and returned with his companions no wiser than when he went. Toby Sam was talking with the prisoners when Black John returned, and the prisoners seemed in remarkably good spirits. Black John now moved his men along the backward way, but not on the backward trail, and was soon leaving the hillside and the pass behind him. The girl kept her own counsel, and did not tell them that Pawnee Bill had departed for Glendive. When the spot was reached, near the stage trail, where the emeralds had been concealed, she pointed it out to them. Black John could not hide a grin. It was such a joke--when he had the emeralds in his pocket! The bandits saw the fresh earth turned there, and began to dig with feverish energy. They reached the bottom of the hole, but found no emeralds. Then their rage broke bounds; for, suddenly, they conceived the idea that from the first Lena Forest had deceived them. If it had not been for Black John they would now have treated her outrageously, and might have shot her, and her lover as well. Black John did not care for Clayton, but he meant to protect the girl. He put himself in front of her, and drew his revolver.