“Always, on the trail.”
“Loaded, I presume—and his pistols?”
“You may well suppose that,” said Peria.
“Oh, well,” said the new member of the party, “’tis just as well to be safe. I lifted his saddlebags and the desk, or trunk, whatever you call it, that is on the pack horse yonder. Heavy, eh?”
“Naturally,” grinned Peria.
They looked at one another. And thereafter the two, as was well noted, conversed often and more intimately together as the journey progressed.
“Now it’s an odd thing about his coat,” volunteered the stranger later in that same day. “He always keeps it on—that ragged old uniform. Was it a uniform, do you believe? Can’t the Governor of the new Territory wear a coat that shows his own quality? This one’s a dozen years old, you might say.”
“He always wears it on the trail,” said Peria. “At home he watches it as if it held some treasure.”
“Treasure?” The shifty eyes of the new man flashed in sudden interest. “What treasure? Papers, perhaps—bills—documents—money? His pocket bulges at the side. Something there—yes, eh?”
“Hush!” said Peria. “You do not know that man, the Governor. He has the eye of a hawk, the ear of a fox—you can keep nothing from him. He fears nothing in the world, and in his moods—you’d best leave him alone. Don’t let him suspect, or——” And Peria shook his head.