"Pshaw!" cried Pinkerton. "What's that for?"
"Well—this may be a bloody business, sir, if we are followed, and it would be the saddest thing imaginable——" he broke off and asked abruptly:
"Pardon the question, sir, but is Mrs. Pinkerton alive?"
"My good wife is in her resting grave in Old Kentucky," said Pinkerton in a new voice.
"That settles it, sir," said Apache Kid. "It would be a sad thing to think of that fine girl down at the Half-Way House as an orphan."
Pinkerton frowned.
"When you put it that way," said he, "you take all the fight out of J.D."
"Then I must even beg you to be gone, sir, before there is any chance of pursuit by these men," said Apache Kid. "If we come back alive, we may all call and thank you again, and Miss Pinkerton too. I beg of you to go and take care of meeting them on the way."
"Well, boys, luck to you all, then," and round he wheeled and away with a swirl of leather while the half-breed laid the quirt, that swung at his wrist, to his lean pony's flanks and, with a nod to us, shot after Mr. Pinkerton.
We watched them till they had almost crested the rise and there suddenly they stopped, wheeled, and next moment had dismounted.