He slipped a coin into the rascal’s hand, and then running to the corner of the wall, he found a place where he could mount it, and soon was on top of the palisades. Then he dropped, or climbed, down on the inside, and was lost to the view of Smallpox Dave. “Somethin’s up, more’n he was willin’ ter tell me!” thought the desperado, as he felt of the coin and dropped it into his pocket. “So he’s goin’ to make a strike to git that Injun gold? Well, I’ll go with him in that, you bet; but when we git the gold if I don’t cut his throat and skip out o’ ther country with his half as well as mine then my name ain’t Smallpox Dave. Which it ain’t!” he added whimsically. CHAPTER XXIII. DRIVEN BY DESPERATION. Buffalo Bill did not remain long in his room after hearing that remarkable confession from young Wilkins. When he left it, he sought that of Corporal Clendenning. With the commandant and also the captain absent, Joel Barlow, in his position of lieutenant, was the ranking officer at Fort Cimarron. Buffalo Bill thought of this as he went in search of the corporal. As if to balk him, or cause him hesitation, Clendenning was not in. “Shall I look for him, or shall I take the sole responsibility of this move?” was the scout’s question, when he found that Clendenning was not to be found readily. While debating it, he saw in the darkness Lieutenant Joel Barlow ride down to the palisade gate and ride forth alone into the night. This looked so suspicious that the scout lost no time in getting his horse and following. But, quickly as he moved, Barlow had returned to the corner of the wall and was talking with Smallpox Dave before the scout got outside. Thus it chanced that as Buffalo Bill rode on and away from the fort, seeking for the crafty lieutenant, the latter, having scaled the wall and dropped down inside, was making his way toward the abode of Mrs. McGee, where the girl had been lodged. When he approached this section of the house, which adjoined the big cook room, and found Mrs. McGee’s ample form directly in front of him, for she was sitting in the doorway and saw him before he saw her, he was forced to play again a crafty game. “A good evening to you, Mrs. McGee,” he said, lifting his cap gallantly. “Bad cess to the likes av all av ye!” said outspoken Mrs. McGee. “The Lard niver made ye, I know, and may the divil fly away wid his works, says I!” “A kindly greeting, Mrs. McGee,” he said, trying to laugh and to seem at ease. “Your tongue must have been scraping over the grindstone lately, I’m judging. What are you swearing at me about?” “Swearin’ at yez, is it? Who be swearin’ at ye?” “Why, I thought you were.” “I wouldn’t waste me breath swearin’ at ye.” “I suppose you know that I’m in command here during the colonel’s absence?” “I know it. The orneriest birds fly highest whin they git the chance.”