“I wonder how he gits onter it that anything’s up?” questioned Dug. “Mebbe that sneak, Colvin, tells him.”
“Mebbe so,” nodded Bight. “Anyhow, nobody trusts Colvin none, and I opines he’d been polished off here ef he’d stayed.”
“And he’ll sartin never git very fur,” declared Dug. “Them boys arter him will sure run him down and make buzzard bait o’ him.”
Hearing this, Hodge knew for the first time that there were men in pursuit of Colvin, his messenger, who had slipped out of the valley the previous night. Colvin had sworn, if he lived, to carry the message for Frank to the nearest telegraph station and send it. But he was pursued by ruffians who meant to slay him. It was doubtful if he reached a telegraph office. If he failed, of course Merriwell would remain uninformed as to the situation in the Enchanted Valley and would not hurry about returning there.
Even if Colvin succeeded, it might be too late. Bart believed it probable that Merry was in San Diego or that vicinity, and therefore it would take him some time to reach Prescott and travel by horse from Prescott to the valley. Long before he could make such a journey the mutineers would be able to accomplish their evil design.
“Who do you s’pose is back of this yere business, Dug?” said Bight. “You thinks Bland is not behind it, does yer?”
“Dead sartin. Bland he never does this fer hisself. He wouldn’t dare. It wouldn’t do him no good.”
“Why not?”
“Because he can’t hold this yere mine and work it. Somebody locates him, and he has to evaporate, for his record counts agin’ him. Howsomever, he can jump the mine for some other gent and git paid fer doing the trick, arter which he ambles into the distance and gently disappears. This is his little game, and I will bet on it.”
“I wonders some who the gent is behind it.”