“Whistling Pigs,” exclaimed Bob, “reckon that’s why Gordon did not favor us with any more lead.”
“Undoubtedly it is,” Don Haurea agreed.
“What was Gordon going to do, or doing with carrier pigeons?” Jim wanted to know. “Are they kept on that ranch?”
“Merely shipped from there. The man told Jute they had sold the place and were waiting for the last birds he brought down.”
“Shipped by rail?”
“Truck, and probably that truck will not appear in the neighborhood again. From the plane, Gordon no doubt dropped a warning, or several of them, and every trace will be obliterated at once.”
“Tough luck,” Jim muttered.
“How many of the wounded can be moved?” Mr. Austin asked practically.
“Both of them,” was the decision. “I shall take Jute to the Box-Z.”
“Kramer is booked for the K-A,” Jim grinned.