“Put up your gun, kid. I can’t afford to be killed. I’m going to be a howlin’ millionaire. I’ll say no more, but I’m not sorry I spoke. You bein’ so very earnest that way, I’m satisfied you can deliver the goods. That is what I want to know—for I tell you now, I don’t expect to head Forbes off here. He had too much start of us—unless he dilly-dallies along the road or is delayed.”
“If he comes back, won’t he bring a gang with him? If he does we’re done,” said Hales. “That’s why I’m willing to kill my horse to beat him to it. You two seem more interested in chewing the rag.”
“O, that’s all right! Jody and me, we’ve come to a good understanding,” said Caney smoothly. Jody Weir glanced carelessly at the back of Hales’ head, his eyes wandered till they met Caney’s eyes and held steadily there for a moment; his brows arched a trifle.
“Well, here we are,” announced Jody. “We’d better make the climb afoot. The horses are about done and they’d make too much noise anyway—floundering about. It’s all slick rock.”
They took their rifles from the saddles, they clambered up the steep pass, they peered over cautiously.
“Hell! There’s two of them!” said Caney. “Get ’em both! Big stakes! This is the chance of a lifetime!”
Below them on a little shelf of promontory stood a saddled horse, a blue horse. A yearling was hog-tied there, and a branding fire burned beside. As they looked, a young man knelt over the yearling and earmarked it. Close by, Adam Forbes slouched in the saddle, leaning with both hands on the horn. He gave a letter to the young man, who stuck it into his shirt and then went back to the yearling. He loosed the hogging-string. The yearling scrambled to his feet, bawling defiance, intent on battle; the young man grabbed the yearling’s tail and jerked him round till his head faced down the cañon. Adam Forbes made a pass with his horse and slapped with his hat; the yearling fled.
“Wait! Wait!” whispered Jody. “I know that man! That’s Johnny Dines. Wait! Adam wants to get back and feel that gold in his fingers. Ten to one Dines is going across the river; I can guess his business; he’s hunting for the John Cross. Adam gave him the location-papers to mail. If Adam goes back—there’s your scapegoat—Dines! He’ll be the man that killed Forbes!”
“Friend of yours, Jody?”