"Oh, yes!" answered Joe Brady. "There was a fellow that practiced in California, who would never rob a woman."
"Is it any use showing fight?" inquired Smithers, displaying a new rifle and a brace of pistols.
"If you want your brains blown out on the prairie. No, no," answered Brady. "Don't anger them. You're not strong enough. Who knows how many there may be in the gang. What can one man do. Think of your wife and children, and if you can't save your property, at least try to preserve your life for their sake. And now, good-day and good luck to you," cried Joe Brady.
"The same to you," answered Smithers.
"Remember, I warned you."
"I'm not likely to forget."
The stranger made an inclination of the head to Mr. Smithers, and putting spurs to his horse, was soon out of sight.
Smithers put the team in motion again, and the oxen labored along over the rough, uneven road.
He had traversed two-thirds of the Dead Snake Canyon without meeting with any human being, and was congratulating himself upon his escape from Capt. Jordan.
But his congratulations were premature.