He made directly for the camp, and Blacky Silk recognized him.
“Kid!” he called. “What th’ devil!”
The man saw him and swung his horse to the lee side of the machine.
“Say, what you doin’ here?” he demanded.
“What you doin’ here?” retorted Blacky.
“I was tryin’ to get to Opaco to see you,” the man replied. “Lord, I’m glad I drifted in here and found you! Save me over sixty miles o’ this. Blacky, somethin’s happened.”
“What?”
The man, “Kid” Strickland, from Stlingbloke, was chunky of build and pockmarked, and showed small evidences of being anything but an undesirable citizen. He told of the arrest of Halfaman Daisy and of the escape of Manzanita Canby and the Mangan-Hatton flunky.
“I knew about that bird Halfaman,” said Blacky. “I was at Opaco when they brought um in. But——”
The other dismounted, and they held close consultation. Presently Kid Strickland produced a crumpled piece of paper sack, folded carefully.