“I wish,” said he, “that you would p’int that machine of yours off there to the east, and let us know what you make of it.”
His outstretched arm showed the direction named, and his friends naturally turned their attention toward that point of the compass. They were on the plain, where the grass grew plentifully, the hilly portions being in sight several miles to their left.
Before the field glass was called into use, all saw, seemingly in the very rim of the horizon, several horsemen moving apparently over a course parallel with their own, since Lattin said they had been in sight for nearly an hour, and were neither more nor less distinct than when first observed.
The glasses were passed from one to the other, and the parties were closely studied. The instruments were of great help, giving to our friends a knowledge which otherwise they could not have obtained.
All agreed that there were three horsemen, and that one, possibly two, were white men. The third might have belonged to the same race, but, for some cause, the Texans declared that he was a half-breed, known as Jim-John, one of the worst rogues in the Southwest.
“If you know him,” said Nick, “you ought to know the others.”
“So I do,” quietly replied Strubell; “one is Bell Rickard, that you introduced to us last night. They’re a bad lot, and we’re bound to have trouble with them before morning.”
Little did the sagacious Texan suspect the startling manner in which his words were to be verified.