“Twenty minutes maybe. It was way up high in the tree—a big red square cloth o’ some kind.”
“Le’s look into this,” said the sheriff quickly. “Everybody was at the table, wasn’t they, Squawtooth? Couldn’t ’a’ been none o’ them.”
They hurried out to the stable and the corrals, and searched all about, but found no one. Men were resting in the yard when they returned, and others were on the back veranda. Every man was questioned, but all professed ignorance of any sort of signal.
“Ed,” said Squawtooth to his vaquero, “you’re cock-eyed.”
Ed shook his head. “I seen it plain,” he defended. “Thought maybe the strays had been found and roped and that that was a signal callin’ folks in, that I hadn’t heard anything about.”
“Well, I’m goin’ to Stlingbloke,” announced the sheriff. “Signals ain’t worryin’ me. I want Blacky Silk and The Kid. See ye later, Canby.”
CHAPTER XXII
BREAKING CLOUDS FOR ONE
ON top of the gigantic rock in the chaparral fastness sat Manzanita Canby and Falcon the Flunky. Overhead the sun was creeping slowly toward the zenith. From time to time the girl lifted the binoculars from her lap and trained them on Squawtooth. Each time, as she lowered them, she sighed.
“They’ve not found any of our messages,” she said, “or else things wouldn’t be so quiet down there, with noon almost here. All of the men that just rode in from the mountains have gone into the house—to eat, I suppose. If they were going to signal at noon, wouldn’t they be standing around to see if anything would happen?”
“I should think their curiosity might be aroused to that extent,” replied her companion. “All in the house, eh?”