"I like hounds, if they have mettle."
"Even when they run themselves down following a cold trail?" he asked in self-derision.
Her reply was interrupted by voices raised in altercation in the vicinity of the supply-wagon. A clump of bushes concealed the disputants, but they easily recognized the rasping nasal tones of Mr. Stott and the menacing bellow peculiar to the cook in moments of excitement.
The wrangle ended abruptly, and while Helene and Wallie stood wondering as to what the silence meant, Pinkey with a wry smile upon his face came toward them.
"Well, I guess we're out of the dude business," he said, laconically.
"What's the matter now?" Wallie demanded so savagely that the two burst out laughing.
"Nothin' much, except that Hicks is runnin' Stott with the butcher-knife and aims to kill him. I don't know as I blame him. He said his grub was full of ants and looked like scraps for Fido."
Wallie was alarmed, but Pinkey reassured him.
"Don't worry! He won't catch him, unless he's got wings, the gait Stott was travellin'. He'll be at the hotel in about twenty minutes—it's only five miles. What do you make of this, pardner?" Pinkey handed him a worn and grimy envelope as he added in explanation:
"I found it stuck in the cupboard of the wagon."