“I suppose so. But, Saxton, I want you to do something right away. Get Trinidad on the phone. If your son hasn’t started, tell him to wait till tomorrow. Make it emphatic. It may be very important. If he has started, get one of the towns this side of Trinidad, and see that the car is held there. Now do that. Be sure. Will you, Saxton?”
The banker looked at him keenly.
“There’s something up, I can see that,” he said. “But I think you’re getting upset over a trifle. Those armored cars, you know—”
“Yes, I know,” Bill cut in.
Should he mention his discovery to Saxton? He might be on the wrong track entirely. The armed plane might possibly be one of the exhibits from the recent Las Vegas carnival.
At any rate, only he himself could be of any possible service now, if the car had started from Trinidad. No use worrying Saxton and Ruth, he decided.
He waited until he heard Saxton at the telephone asking for long distance to Trinidad, and then grabbing up a rifle and several rounds from a little den-like hunting room which Saxton had furnished off of the living-room, he remounted his horse and galloped along the road to the east of the town, and, just as dawn streaked the sky, reached his plane.
A few minutes later he had turned the horse loose to graze, and had hopped off, the nose of his old Jenny pointed toward Trinidad.
As he sailed along he wondered if he was on a useless quest. He might be.
In the first place, there was a possibility that his suspicions were not well founded. Then Saxton might be able to get Trinidad before the armored car started, and could head it off.