“How about sending word to Winston?” Mangan put in.
“No need to do that now,” Demarest answered for Squawtooth. “Ain’t he forgiven ’em? Said he had. And the sheriff says the pot-walloper ain’t guilty. This fella’d never had the crust to refer you to Winston, Canby, if he wasn’t all right. But how in thunder comes it that he knows Winston—one o’ the biggest engineers railroadin’?”
The rollicking Mr. Demarest wheeled on Mangan. “What’s the idea, Mr. Mangan?” he said quizzically. “You fellows been pulling off somethin’ funny out here, so that the company sent an engineer to spy on you? By golly, I believe it!”
“I thought much the same thing,” admitted Hunt. “I don’t know. There’s nothing crooked in any camp’s work, so far as I know. I’m as much mystified over this Falcon the Flunky as any of you. One thing I believe, though—he’s all man.”
“Piffle!” retorted Demarest. “Canby and I are goin’ to kick ’im into the middle o’ next week when the girl’s safe. But hurry up, you folks; it’s almost noon. Don’t stand here spillin’ words. Darndest country I ever saw! Everybody sits around and waits for the wind to stop blowin’ or somethin’ like that.”
The signal was soon hoisted in the cottonwood, and, to the huge delight of the big contractor, Mart rode the unbroken colt over the desert. Demarest roared and shouted, and his face turned from red to purple as he laughed in his enjoyment of the sport. Even Squawtooth Canby fell a prey to his jovial spirits and laughed with the others. Then Mart rose gracefully from the saddle in the shape of a shelf bracket, and in the interest of the cause alighted unhurt in a bunch of greasewood, while the colt went on bucking over the desert in an effort to pitch off the saddle, too. Mart nonchalantly picked himself up, took a chew of squawtooth, and limped back to the spectators, to become the possessor of a five-dollar bill donated by the effervescent Mr. Demarest to prove his appreciation of the entertainment.
Then all afternoon some one remained aloft in the tall cottonwood to announce the first glimpse of the returning fugitives. Demarest and Mangan stayed and tried to cheer the anxious cattleman, but hour after hour went by with no favorable report from the treetop.
Then, as evening drew near, and just as the two contractors were about to take their leave in disappointment, the lookout shouted down:
“Here they come!”
At once all was excitement. Men sprang into the saddles and loped off in the direction indicated by the watcher; but before any of them had progressed very far a big black car rushed past them, caroming from hummock to hummock with alarming recklessness, with Mangan, Squawtooth Canby, and Mart in the rolling tonneau, and Demarest seated beside his driver.