Bute was found alone, and was much surprised at sight of his old
gambling acquaintance of better days, for his better days were
those of robbery before he had added the deeper stain of murder.
Brandt soon allayed active fears and suspicions by giving the
impression that in his descensus he had reached the stage of
robbery and had got on the scent of some rich booty in the
mountains. "But how did you know I was here?" demanded Bute.
"I didn't know it," replied Brandt, adopting his old vernacular;
"but I guessed as much, for I knew there was more'n one shady
feller in this gang, and I took my chances on findin' you, for,
says I to myself, if I can find Bute, I've found the right man to
help me crack a ranch when there's some risk and big plunder."
He then disclosed the fact of hearing that the keeper of the
tavern had accumulated a good sum of hard money, and was looking
out for a chance to send it to a bank. "We can save him the
trouble, yer know," he concluded, facetiously.
"Well," said Bute, musingly, "I'm gittin' tired of this dog's
life, and I reckon I'll go snacks with yer and then put out fer
parts unknown.
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