“Are they the ones we chased?” was what he whispered into Frank’s ear.
“Yes, sure!” came the reply; “and I know one only too well. It’s Reddy Cramer. Mr. Riley knows him, too.”
Frank had taken pattern from Bob in drawing the head of the other down, so he might say these few words directly into his ear.
Bob made no reply. None seemed necessary under the circumstances. Yes, he remembered hearing all sorts of stories about that same Reddy Cramer. Frank had told him how the man had given so much trouble at the mine; and some six months back had been run out of camp, with a warning that he would be harshly handled should he ever dare come back.
Reddy had evidently waited his time about returning. And he had formed a plan whereby he could have the laugh on the superintendent. Perhaps he knew about the threatening strike. Possibly he may even have had friends fomenting trouble at the Cherry Blossom, so as to make his raid the more easily carried out. If one-half that had been told about Reddy were true, he would have been equal to this.
But, somehow, Bob thought the squatty man with the red hair did not look as happy as he might for one who had just carried a brilliant stroke of business to completion. In fact, he seemed to have a dark scowl on his face. And as Bob noted his actions he saw him bring his clenched fist down on the slab of wood serving as a table, with considerable vim, as he said something to his mate.
This latter was a tall, lean fellow. He had a dark skin, and Bob fancied that possibly he was a Mexican, though he dressed as an American. Whether a gambler, or just an ordinary business man gone wrong, if his face were an index to his character, he must be a good match for Reddy.
Bob now began to wonder what the next move would be. If these were the robbers, of course they must be captured. Could this be done without a fight? They looked like desperate men, and must be heavily armed. Having once gained possession of the gold such fellows would certainly not give up their prize tamely.
This brought another thrill in its train. Bob had never been closely connected with any real out and out “scrap,” as the boys of Circle Ranch would call it. He thought longingly of those same boys right now, and wished a few of them might be along to throw the weight of their influence in the scale.
True, with Mr. Riley to assist, they were three against two; but then there could hardly be any comparison between a pair of half grown boys, and these desperate men.