Rance turned to Ashby and asked him what he thought about it.
“I don’t know what to think,” was the Wells Fargo Agent’s reply. “But it certainly is curious. This is the second warning—intimation that we have had that he is somewhere in this vicinity.”
“And this Nina Micheltoreña—you say she is coming here to-night?”
Ashby nodded assent.
“All the same, Rance,” he maintained, “I wouldn’t go. Better drop in to The Palmetto later.”
“What? Risk losin’ ’im?” exclaimed Sonora, who had been listening intently to their conversation.
“We’ll take the chance, boys, in spite of Ashby’s advice,” Rance said decisively. It was with not a little surprise that he heard the shouts with which his words were approved by all save the Wells Fargo Agent.
Now the miners made a rush for their coats, hats and saddles, while from all sides came the cries of, “Come on, boys! Careful—there! Ready—Sheriff!”
Gladly, cheerfully, Nick, too, did what he could to get the men started by setting up the drinks for all hands, though he remarked as he did so:
“It’s goin’ to snow, boys; I don’t like the sniff in the air.”