While Jack was settling with such energy the question of the division of the spoils, another scene no less curious was taking place in the end opposite the table where the bandits were seated. One of the men who was on that side got up at the moment that Jack was making his statements in such a formidable manner, and moving toward the fire, looked at Jack Three Fingers stupidly, yet with some admiration. Then he returned to his table and spoke some words in the ears of his companions. Without doubt, these words were of some importance, for they had the effect of making six or eight persons who accompanied their informant leave the cabin.
Murrieta and his friend followed them into the darkness, and saw that they went toward a cabin situated about fifty feet from there. Believing that Jack Three Fingers must have been the cause of the sudden departure of these individuals, our Mexicans allowed them to enter the house, then drew near, and listened to what was being said within. Joaquin and Valenzuela had drawn their revolvers in order to be prepared to defend themselves in case of attack.
“Did you see him? Did you look at him well?” said one of the men inside the cabin.
“Perfectly,” said another. “I will know him all my life. But are you sure that is the same person?”
“I don’t know; what I do know is that I know him. I have seen him several times in the mountains, and I can swear to you that it is Jack Three Fingers, one of the main members of Joaquin’s gang. I am also positive that Joaquin himself is in San Francisco, for whoever sees one sees the other; you always find them in the same places and seldom are they separated. Therefore, the three men who are sitting with Jack must belong to the crowd.”
“Then boys,” said a third speaker, whose accent showed that he was a son of Ireland, “everything is clear; here is the one by whom the game we have been hunting disappeared last night.”
“What do you mean, Dumps? Explain yourself.”