Sonora, likewise, was beaming with joy when almost instantly he turned to Nick with:
“As sure’s you live she’s throwed ’im for me!”
Nick, among his other accomplishments, had a faculty for dumbness and said nothing; but a smile which approached a grin formed on his face as he stood eyeing quizzically first one and then the other. Finally, picking up the empty glasses, he left the room.
“Will old dog Tray remember me”—immediately sung out Trinidad, gleefully. While Sonora, in the seventh heaven of delight, began to caper about the room. Of a sudden Nick poked his head in through the door to inquire into the cause of their hilarity, but they ignored him completely. At the bar-room door, however, Sonora halted and, glancing over his shoulder in the Sheriff’s direction, he added in a most tantalising manner:
“ ... for me!”
But while Trinidad and Sonora were going out through one door the Deputy was entering through another. He was greatly agitated and carried in his hand the letter which The Pony Express had entrusted to his keeping for Ashby.
“Why, Ashby’s skipped!” he announced uneasily. “Got off just after three this morning—posse and all.”
A question was in Nick’s eyes as he turned upon the speaker with the interjection:
“What!” And then as the Deputy made a dash for the bar-room, he added with a swift change of manner: “Help yourself, Dep.”
But if Nick was slow to realise the situation, not so the Sheriff, who instantly awoke to the fact that the Wells Fargo Agent was on Johnson’s trail. His lips drew quickly back in a half-grin.