An inner room, fitted with bunks, was used as the
dormitory, but the two robbers, as special guests
had rooms to themselves. Going to a cupboard,
and bringing out an armful of blankets, Swanson threw
them on the floor.
“There my hearty, you and your boy will have
to camp out here to-night. We’re crowded,
so make yourself comfortable,” and then bidding
them “Good-night,” he staggered to his
bed.
Nothing could suit the detectives better than this.
A room to themselves, a warm fire, plenty of blankets
and no suspicions of their true character.
Smoothing the blankets over the bear skins, the two
friends lay down and a whispered conversation commenced.
“What were Cummings and Moriarity talking about,
Chip?” said Sam, in a cautious tone.
“Cummings wants to rob the old man, Swanson.
He says he’s got thousands of dollars salted
somewhere around here and thinks they might as well
make hay while the sun shines, but Dan was afraid to
do it.”
“What a precious pair of rascals, but we can
use this idea first-rate to get them over the line
again.”
“I thought of the same thing as they were talking.
If you could only bring it up without awaking any
suspicions, we might offer to help him do the job.”
“Trust me for that, old fellow. Even if
we have to commit actual robbery, I’ll do it.”
“Well, keep your eyes open, and don’t
be caught sleeping. Go to sleep, now. I’ll
keep first watch.”
This was the regular system of the two operators.
While one slept the other kept watch and to this fact
a large portion of their success was due.
The ranche became quiet, its denizens all sleeping,
and the night passed without any disturbance.
The doctor Turns conspirator—the
plot to rob the ranche.
The pseudo doctor had been at the ranche a week, during
which he had become quite chummy with Jim Cummings
and Dan Moriarity, who, finding that time hung very
heavy on their hands, welcomed the jovial, story-telling
doctor and spent most of their time in his company.
Swanson, who was moving his stock further west and
making preparations for the spring round-up, was obliged
to be in the saddle all day and sometimes late at
night. Although a hard drinker, an unscrupulous
rascal and an inveterate gambler, he was a good stock-raiser,
and kept good care of his cattle. He employed
a large force of cowboys or herders, and, acting himself
as captain of the round-up, he would absent himself
from home for days at a time.
One morning the Doctor, flashing a significant glance
toward Scip, which said, “Take your cue and
follow me,” remarked in a careless tone:
“I reckon the old man must have considerable
dust salted down by this time.”
As the remark was a general one made to Cummings,
Moriarity and Scip, the latter answered:
