"Then his saddle was here?"
"It he dit keep here, vor id vos very valueless," said the Dutchman. "He vos avraid stolen id would pe. I know Pill. Ven he come und say, 'Vritz, you tookit my saddles und keepit it a vile undil vor id I call,' I[Pg 267] say, 'Yah, you pet.' I haf nod any anxiety him to make some drouble by."
"If he came for his saddle it is likely he meant to use it. Was he in a hurry?"
"Der piggest hurry I ever knewn him to pe indo. Ven I invortationed him to a drink take, he said he could not sdop vor id."
"He's on the run!" exclaimed Frank. "Where does he keep his horse when in town?"
"Ad Dorvelt's shust down a liddle vays."
Frank almost ran from the saloon and hurried down the street to Dorfelt's stable.
He was stared at in the same wondering amazement when he asked for Cimarron Bill.
"Mebbe you has urgent business with that gent?" said one man.
"I have," answered Merry. "He shot Ben File about ten minutes ago, and I am after him."