Horsemen boiled from the yard gate with uproar and hullabaloo; Pringle heard their shouts; he saw the glare of soap weeds, fired to help their search.
The lights died away; the shouts grew fainter: they swelled again as the searchers straggled back, vociferous. Pringle caught scraps of talk as they watered their horses.
"Clean getaway!"
"One bad actor, that hombre!"
"Regular Go-Getter!"
"Batting average about thirteen hundred, I should figger."
"Life-size he-man! Where do you suppose——"
"Saw a lad make just such another break once in Van Zandt County——"
"Say! Who're you crowdin'?"
"Hi, fellers! Bill's giving some more history of the state of Van
Zandt!"