“That’s the man,” said Steele.
“I don’t believe it,” said Long flatly. He was sipping coffee with his guests; he put his cup down. “I know him, a little. He don’t——”
“Oh, there’s no doubt of it!” interrupted Steele in his turn. He detailed the circumstances with skilful care. “Besides, why did he run away? Gee! You ought to have seen that escape! It was splendid!”
“Well, now, who’d ’a’ thought that?” demanded Long, still only half convinced. “He didn’t strike me like that kind of a man. Well, you never can tell! How come you fellows to be chasin’ him?”
“You see,” said Steele, “every one was sure he had gone up to Rainbow. The sheriff and posse is up there now, looking for him; but we four—Stone and Harlow, the chaps at the other end, were with us, you know—we were up in the foothills on a deerhunt. We were out early—sun-up is the best time for deer, they tell me—and we had a spyglass. Well, we just happened to see a man ride out from between two hills, quite a way off. Stone noticed right away that he was riding a sorrel horse. It was a sorrel horse that Bransford stole, you know. We didn’t suspect, though, who it was till a bit later. Then Rex tried to pick him up again and saw that he was going out of his way to avoid the ridges—keeping cover, you know. Then we caught on and took after him pell-mell. He had a big start; but he was riding slowly so as not to make a dust—that is, till he saw our dust. Then he lit out.”
“You’re not deputies, then?” said Long.
“Oh, no, not at all!” said Steele, secretly flattered. “So Harlow and Stone galloped off to town. The program was that they’d wire down to Escondido to have horses ready for them, come down on Number Six and head him off. They were not to tell any one in Arcadia. There’s five thousand dollars’ reward out for him—but it isn’t that exactly. It was a cowardly, beastly murder, don’t you know; and we thought it would be rather a big thing if we could take him alone.”
“You got him penned all right,” said Tobe. “He can’t get out, so far as I know, unless he runs over us or the men at the other end. By George, we must get away from this fire, too!” He set the example, dragging the bedding with him to the shelter of a big rock. “He could pick us off too slick here in the light. How’re you going to get him? There’s a heap of country in that Basin, all rough and broken, full o’ boulders—mighty good cover.”
“Starve him out!” said Griffith. This was base deceit. Deep in his heart he believed that the quarry sat beside him, well fed and contented. Yet the unthinkable insolence of it—if this were indeed Bransford—dulled his belief.
Long laughed as he spread down the bed. “He’ll shoot a deer. Maybe, if he had it all planned out, he may have grub cached in there somewhere. There’s watertanks in the rocks. Say, what are your pardners at the other side going to do for grub?”