"We must keep a sharp lookout for signs of that ugly crowd," Mr. Wallace suggested that night. "Somehow, I have an idea they may hang around here for a week or two, in the hope of still surprising us and taking this treasure away. I hope you'll post sentries each night, Lige."
Lige, being foreman at the ranch and having come to join the party, must from that time on be reckoned with as the leader of the expedition. Nor was Zander Forbes in the least unwilling to have the responsibility shifted to other shoulders.
Nothing happened that night, but on the following day while they were resting in a patch of timber growing about a dry waterhole, they had reason to believe they might be in for further trouble. Zander Forbes sighted a clump of horsemen cantering along, whom he recognized as the bunch they had outwitted.
"If they try for water here," Mr. Wallace remarked, as he too lay in the scrub along the border of the cottonwoods and watched to ascertain which way the wind would blow; "there's going to be a battle royal, and somebody's likely to get badly hurt."
Fortunately the lawless crowd kept straight ahead.
"They still have Nash along," said Paul. "Anyway, some sort of bundle's fastened on the back of their single pack-horse. But where can Lef Seller be?"
"Oh, I'm not worrying about that hard case," chimed in Lanky. "He's the slipperest fox I ever met, and you can trust him to know when he's got enough kicking around."
"Do you think, Frank," continued Paul, "he could have started back for his old home to eat humble pie and, with his mother to back him up, get another chance to walk straight?"
Frank shook his head.
"You've got me on that, Paul. But he can't cause Lanky's folks any further trouble, so let's forget Lef and his fortunes. Everybody, 'most, has said for years that he's bound to come to some bad end, and I'm afraid that's a certainty."