Drew followed instructions carefully.
"Hands up—high! Now turn around."
They turned. A figure had detached itself from among the rocks they had passed moments earlier and came down toward them carbine ready.
"Anse!" Drew stumbled toward the Texan. The other's hat was gone. A torn shirt sleeve flapped about his left arm, allowing sight of a neckerchief knotted about his forearm. His coat trailed from one shoulder. "What in the world happened to you?"
Anse sat down suddenly on one of the boulders, his gaze on Drew. He shook his head slowly.
"I ain't sein' things," he said. "That's you, ain't it? Say—got any water?" His tongue curled over cracked lips.
Drew snatched the canteen from his saddle and hurried forward. More than a bloodstained bandage marked Anse, he could see now. He waited while the other seized the[pg 179] canteen avidly and drank. Then the Texan was smiling at him.
"Seems as how we's always meetin' up, don't it now? Likewise it's always to m' benefit, too. Only this time I've got me somethin' to trade. You keep on goin' down this trail, compadre, an' maybe you'll wind up with a spade pattin' you down nice an' smooth."
"What happened?"
Anse drank again with the discipline of a plains rider, a mouthful at a time.