“You'd better tell him,” said Barkhouse.
“Oh, yes,” said Porter, as if in sudden recollection. “Dicky Nahl was along here, and he said Terrill and Meeker and the other gang was holding a powwow at Borton's, and we'd best look out for surprises.”
“Was that all?”
“Well, he said he guessed there was a new deal on hand, and they was a-buzzin' like a nest of hornets. It was hornets, wasn't it, Bob?”
“Hornets was what he said,” repeated Barkhouse stolidly.
“Where's Dicky now?” I asked.
“I ain't good at guessing,” said Porter, “and Bob's nothing at all at it.”
“Well,” said I, “we had better go down to Borton's and look into this matter.”
There was silence for a time. My guards walked beside me without speaking, but I felt the protest in their manner. At last Barkhouse said respectfully:
“There's no use to do that, sir. You'd better send some one that ain't so likely to be nabbed, or that won't matter much if he is. We'd be in a pretty fix if you was to be took.”