Tompkins nodded quietly. “Yes, Miss Gilman. I came here to trace him—and by a stroke of sheer luck I found this cigarette case. You have read that deed? Then I advise you to go on up the cañon and see if the description fits. I haven’t been up there. Be very careful to say nothing to Hassayamp about this. I’ll see you tonight, if I may, and we’ll talk over what is to be done. Now I must get off—you’d better keep a sharp lookout for rattlers among these rocks. Don’t wait for Hassayamp; he’ll be along as soon as he’s able. Hasta la vista!”
She made no response, but stood gazing after him thoughtfully as he turned and departed.
CHAPTER VI
As Tompkins climbed down the rock-strewn cañon toward the thorny growth which hid the flivver from sight, he came to a decision upon his course of action, forcing himself to determine upon a caution which was distasteful and yet necessary.
“Hasta mañana!” he resolved. “Until tomorrow, at least, I must remain Percival and so forth Tompkins—and then I’ll become Pat Ramsay once more, and get into action. The damned murderers! I wonder how many men have gone the way of poor Alec? I wonder how many people have been decoyed into this spiderweb to lose everything they had? Alec must have gone investigating, must have discovered the headquarters of this gang—and so they finished him. He’s probably lying somewhere up that cañon now. Well, time enough to look him up; just now I’ve got to watch my step mighty close.”
He was now assailed by the problem of locating Sagebrush, since he could not well run off with the car and leave his companion to rusticate in the desert solitudes. As he came in sight of the patch of piñon and cactus which enshrined the flivver, he caught no sign of the desert rat. He knew that he could recall Sagebrush with a smoke, but this he did not desire to do unless necessary.
When he drew near the clump, he perceived Hassayamp’s flivver on the other side, with strips of canvas flung over the tires to protect them. An unusual object beneath this car attracted his attention, and upon closer approach he discovered it to be no other than Sagebrush. He gave a hail, and the old desert rat crawled out into the sunlight.
An exclamation broke from Tompkins, and he hurried forward. The left arm of Sagebrush was out of its shirt-sleeve and roughly bandaged, and the bandage was dark with blood.
“What happened?” he demanded. “How’d you hurt yourself, old-timer?”. Sagebrush clawed at his whiskers and flung the inquirer a pained look.
“You got it plumb wrong, Perfesser,” he observed. “I aint been meanderin’ around these parts for fifteen year or more ’thout leamin’ how not to hurt myself. I aint no pilgrim, by gosh!”