"He has a female in his company!" said Redburn, watching the new-comer keenly.
"Yas, peers to me he has, an' et's more or less likely that et's the same critter he went to resky w'en he left Charity Joe's train!"
"What about him? We do not want him here; to let him return to Deadwood after what he has seen would be certain death to our interests."
"Yas, thar's more or less truth in them words o' yours, b'yee—consider'bly more o' less than less o' more. He ken't go back now, nohow we kin fix et. He's a right peart sort o' a kid, an' I think ef we was ter guv him a job, or talk reeson'ble ter him, thet he'd consent to do the squar' thing by us."
Redburn frowned.
"He'll have to remain for a certain time, whether he wants to or not," he muttered, more savage than usual. It looked to him as if this was to be the signal of a general invasion. "Come! let's go and see what we can do."
They left the foothills, clambered down into the valley and worked their way toward where Fearless Frank and his companion sat in waiting.
As they did so, headed by a figure in black, who wore a mask as did all the rest, a band of horsemen rode out of the fissure into the valley. One glance and we recognize Deadwood Dick, Prince of the Road, and his band of road-agents!