XXI
THE MURDERER OF WHITE ANTELOPE
It was nearly dusk, and Ralston was only a few hundred yards from the Bar C gate, when he met Babe, highly perfumed and with his hair suspiciously slick, coming out. Babe’s look of disappointment upon seeing him was not flattering, but Ralston ignored it in his own delight at the meeting.
“What was your rush? I was just goin’ over to see you,” was Babe’s glum greeting.
“And I’m here to see you,” Ralston returned, “but I forgot to perfume myself and tallow my hair.”
“Aw-w-w,” rumbled Babe, sheepishly. “What’d you want?”
“You know what I’m in the country for?”
Babe nodded.
“I’ve located my man, and he’s going to drive off a big bunch to-night. There’s two of them in fact, and I’ll need help. Are you game for it?”
“Oh, mamma!” Babe rolled his eyes in ecstasy.