“Food, yes; a pistol, also. He may perhap make to escape.”
“Oh, I have hope, I have hope,” cried Alison. “Tell me exactly where it was that you left him.”
“In the valley of Night Creek; near mountains Guadalupe.”
“Thank you, thank you, Carlos. I believe you tell me the truth.”
“I speak truth.”
“Hush!” Alison sprang to her feet. “Keep very quiet. Some one is coming.”
It was not Neal’s whistle that she heard, but the approach of horses. She ran to the door, forgetting Neal’s charge to keep out of sight. Two men had dismounted and were examining the trail of the man who lay hidden. Unheeding the chill wind and the beating rain, Alison stood in the doorway, but retreated a little as the men approached. They both stopped short at sight of her, and she saw Bud and Ira.
“Alison Ross, what under canopy are you doin’ here?” exclaimed Ira.
She laughed nervously. “I came in out of the rain. What are you doing here?”
“We are huntin’ the worst kind of cattle, one of Pike Smith’s gang. Caught sight of him in the road ahead of us, got after him but he slipped us somehow and we thought we had struck his trail here.” He stepped into the room. To all appearances it was empty, save for the presence of Chico.