“You can.”
“You have seen her?”
“Yes, sir. We’ll not beat around any bush over that.”
He meditated, frowning a bit, eying us narrowly.
“I had the notion,” he said. “If you have staked her to shelter I thank you; but now I aim to play the hand myself. This is a strictly private game. Where is she?”
“I call yuh, Pedro,” my friend answered. “We ain’t keepin’ cases on her, or on you. You don’t find her in my outfit, that’s flat. She spent the night with the Adams women. You’ll find her waitin’ for you, 184 on ahead.” He grinned. “She’ll be powerful glad to see you.” He sobered. “And I’ll say this: I’m kinder sorry I ain’t got her, for she’d be interestin’ company on the road.”
“The road to hell, yes,” Montoyo coolly remarked. “I’d guarantee you quick passage. Good-day.”
With sudden steely glare that embraced us both he jumped his mount into a gallop and tore past the team, for the front. He must have inquired, once or twice, as to the whereabouts of the Captain’s party; I saw fingers pointing.
“Here! You’ve swapped collars on your lead span, boy,” Mr. Jenks reproved—but he likewise fumbling while he gazed.
I could hold back no longer.