“Thar’s a party of the varmints just beyont the place we meant to ride out.”
“Well, what of that? You can lave the pass somewhere along here, where there seem plenty of places that ye can climb out, while I make a dash out of that, and we’ll meet agin after we get clear of the spalpeens.”
“Thar’s a mighty risk about it, and yer be likelier to get shot than to be missed.”
“That’s all right,” responded Mickey. “I’m reddy to take the chances in that kind of business. Lead on, and we’ll try it. It’ll soon be dark, and I’m getting tired of this fooling.”
Sut liked that kind of talk. There was a business ring about it, and he responded:
“I’ll go ahead, and when it’s time to stop I’ll make yer the signal. Keep watch of my motions.”
Ten minutes later they had reached a spot so near the opening that Mickey easily recognized it. He compressed his lips and his eyes flashed with a stern determination as he surveyed it. The scout was still in the advance, proceeding in the same careful manner, all his wits about him, when he again paused, and motioned for the Irishman to stop. The latter saw and recognized the gesture, but he declined to obey it. He permitted his mustang to walk on until he had reached the spot where Sut was crouching, making the most furious kind of motions, and telling him to stay where he was.
“Why didn’t yer stop when I tell yer, blast ye?” he demanded angrily.
“Is that the place where ye expected to go out?” asked Mickey, without noticing the question, as he pointed off to the spot which he had fixed upon as the one for which they were searching.
“Of course it is; but what of it? You can’t do anything thar.”