Hanson did not alter his lounging pose and yet, indefinably, his attitude became more tense, as if, in a quick riveting of attention, every sense had become alert.  “He’s doing a good mining business, ain’t he?” he spoke carelessly.  “I should think there would be a good many things that would take him out of Paloma.”

“Oh, ’course,” conceded Jimmy, “but don’t you know how you kind of feel things sometimes.  Well, you listen to me, there’s something queer about this trip.”  He half closed his eyes and shook his head mysteriously.

“Come, now, Jimmy,” Hanson’s tone was bantering; he rapped on the bar in playful emphasis, but there was anxiety in his glance.  “You’re just trying to work up a little excitement.  A show down now, a show down.”

“Kid me all you please,” chuckled Jimmy, with imperturbable good humor, “but, take it from me, something special’s been doing.  Bob’s not one to talk about his or any one’s else business, but if he’s going off on any little trip he’s likely to mention it.  And, when he comes back, he’ll tell you this or that he’s seen or heard, just like other folks.  But this time, not a word.  Glum as an oyster.  You just bet,” Jimmy emphasized the statement with a series of nods, “that somethin’s going on.  Him and Gallito have had their heads too close.  And that old fox is usually up to some mischief.”

“What kind?” asked Hanson quickly.

“I don’t know,” answered Jimmy, and Hanson saw to his relief that the bar-keeper was sincere, and that he was to his own manifest regret as ignorant as he appeared.  “But,” he added shrewdly, “you been taking up a good deal of the Pearl’s time and attention, and Bob ain’t going to stand that from anybody very long.”

“He ain’t, ain’t he?” the insolence of Hanson’s tone was touched with triumph.

“No,” said Jimmy simply, “he ain’t; and so I kind of feel that this trip of his had something to do with you.  And, say, Mr. Hanson,” there was a touch of embarrassment in his voice, “you and me’s been pretty good friends since you been here, and I thought I’d just give you the tip.”

Hanson did not answer for a second, and then he looked up with one of his most open and genial smiles.  “Thanks, Jimmy,” he said heartily.  “Always glad to get the straight tip.  I’ve been so anxious since I’ve been here to sign up with the Black Pearl that maybe, considering Mr. Bob Flick, I haven’t been very discreet in the way I’ve been chasing there.”  He leaned his elbow on the bar and assumed a more confidential manner.  “But, say, it’s funny the way every one speaks the same about Gallito.  Hints everywhere, but no facts.  What is it about him, anyway?” He either could not or did not conceal that he awaited a reply with eagerness.

“I wish I knew.”  Jimmy spoke with the utmost sincerity.  “Folks whisper and shake their heads, but there’s nothing to lay a finger on.  I’ve tried to pump Mrs. Gallito more than once, but if she knows anything she keeps it dark.  She’s afraid of me, anyway.  She always says:  ’Oh, Jimmy, you’re such a gossip!’ Me!” He was really injured.  “I guess if everybody did as little gossiping as I do this world would be a heap sight better place.”