The major swung himself up to his seat; the troopers quietly “sinched” their saddles and mounted, and still the clerk stood there absorbed.
“Come, Staines!” shouted the paymaster, impatiently, “we're waiting for you.” And still he did not move. The sergeant whirled his horse about and clattered back to where he stood.
“Come, sir, the major's waiting.” Staines turned abruptly and, silent as ever, hurried to the wagon.
“What were you staring at so long?” said the paymaster, pettishly, as his assistant clambered in. “I shouted two or three times.”
Staines' face was pale, yet there were drops of sweat upon his brow.
“I thought I saw a party of horsemen out there on the flats.”
“The devil!” said the paymaster, with sudden interest. “Where? Let me look.”
“You can't see now, sir. Even the dust cloud is gone. They are behind that low ridge some eight or ten miles out there in the valley.”
“Go on, driver, it's only cattle from the ranch or something of that kind. I didn't know, by the way you looked and spoke, but that it might be some of Sonora Bill's gang.”
“Hardly, sir; they haven't been heard of for a year, and once away from Pedro's we are safe enough anyhow.”